What has Become of Us?
by Fairytale Mistress
Summary: Four years after Hermione and her friends graduate from Hogwarts Draco finds a girl who looks suspiciously like the former head girl who had it all, selling herself on the streets. What has happened to Hermione Granger? Can Draco, of all people, save her?
1. A Chance Meeting and a Great Surprise

Chapter 1: What has become of us?

_**Babys black balloon makes her fly  
I almost fell into that hole in your life  
And youre not thinking about tomorrow  
cause you were the same as me  
But on your knees**_

Draco sat in the corner of a small coffee shop and bookstore on a frigid November evening. He't taken to coming to this little muggle out of the way place to keep from going home every night to the houe he'd inherited from his parents.

It had been four long years since the end of the war. Four years since they had graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizadry. Four years since his parents had been captured and sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss for torturing and killing innocent men, women and children at the command of their Master the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Malfoy had testified agains them himself. He had seen first hand what his father could do—and what his mother had done—to the innocents they brought to their house and held in their dungeons. He even told the courts that he'd been the victim of their brutal attacks on more than one occasion. He did not claim any relation to that or any other generation of Malfoys.

It was partially for that reason that he resented returning to the house where so much hatred had dwelled over the years. Another reason was because he returned alone.

--

In school, Hermione Granger had been the brightest witch of her age. She'd graduated with top marks and with the highest scores on her NEWTS that any student had made in a century. She'd been awarded an Order of Merlin First Class for her role in the defeat of the Dark Lord—she stood right beside Harry Potter as he faced down his greatest enemy—and she seemed to have everything going for her.

She even had a loving, proud fiance. Ron Weasley never tried to hold her back from anything she wanted to do—he seemed to want nothing but the best for her—he seemed to love her with all his being. He'd asked her to marry him the night Voldemort had been defeated. Of course, Hermione had accepted his proposal.

Now—four years later, things were different in Hermione's life. She had no one she could turn to, had no where to go to sleep at night. She had no job and no money—except that which she made selling herself in the alleyways when it was dark enough to hide her face.

Her face was gaunt, her body slender and bony—it had suffered greatly in the years since her graduation—and her clothes were rags. She shivered against a westward wind that had picked up as the sun began to set. It was nearly time for her to go back to work.

--

Draco paid for his drink and took the copy of the muggle paper he'd picked up and headed for the door. He was occupied with folding the paper and did not see the slender women when he ran into her.

"Pardon me, Miss I—" but he stopped when he looked down and thought for sure that he recognized the face before him.

Hermione knew Draco Malfoy instantly. He was still the wealthiest bachelor in Great Britain. She lowered her face immediately and muttered a strangled apology, before backing away and turning and hurrying down the street she'd just come from.

Draco stared after the retreating girl for a moment, trying to remember where he'd seen her before. When the breeze picked up again, and swept her long, bushy hair about her figure. Suddenly, he knew exactly where he'd seen this young woman before. But could it really be her?

He dropped the cup of coffee and paper and took off after the woman in the tattered trench coat. He didn't want to call her name—for fear that it might not be who he thought it was—but he called out after her, "hey! Hey wait!" trying to get her attention. She only seemed to quicken her step.

Draco, having been blessed with the longer legs, easily caught up to the woman and took a hold of her arm. She attmpted to jerk it away, a frightened look on her face. "Let go of me, Ferret!" she cried, then, realizing what she'd said, snapped her mouth closed, and bolted away from him.

--

Draco found an Aparation point and went home more confused than ever. When he'd left Hogwarts, Hermione seemed to have everything in the world—how on earth could she have ended up on the streets? And where was she now?

The thoughts plagued Draco's mind such that he couldn't sleep at all that night. It irritated him that he was so curious about the… but she wasn't that word anymore—she hadn't been since his father had been killed. Draco didn't use the word "Mudblood" anymore. He was curious why the muggle-born witch was dressed as though that's all she had in the world, why she looked ragged, and tired. Why her arm felt as though it had no meat on it. Surely there was some explaination.

Thowing his sheets off the foot of his bed, Draco growled, stood and walked over to his window. As he looked out on the grounds of the Malfoy Manor, he wondered if he would ever see her again. If he could find her if he looked hard enough.

Something inside of him wanted to find her and help her. Something inside him needed to understand what had happened—and how it had happened—to one of the purest beings he'd ever known.

He decided to wait again for her at the coffee shop the next day. He would sit by the door, watch and wait.

--

For three days, Malfoy saw noone that looked like the girl he'd run into on that fridged night. He'd begun to give up hope, when, across the street, he caught a glipse of curly hair as it disappeared into an alley.

Draco hastily paid for his order, though he hadn't touched his tea, and exited the little shop in the direction he'd seen the curly haired girl go.

--

Hermione followed the man's orders expertly. She'd become numb to any pain or embarassment. This was her only talent. It was the only thing she had left in the world to sell. And it didn't matter anyway—it wasn't worth anything. She wasn't worth anything. She allowed herself to be thrust up against the wall, and closed her eyes as the man lifted her skirt. She felt him unbuckle his belt and thrust up against her. This always reminded her of her first time—not with the man she had loved, no… her first time offering her body to a stranger for money. It was the part right before they were inside her that she hated the most.

The man grunted drunkenly, she knew he wouldn't last long, if he managed to get any satisfaction at all. She wished it was over already—but she hooked her leg around his waist and allowed him better acces. He missed twice, and repositioned himself, holding onto one of her arms as it rested against the brick wall by her face to help steady himself. She felt pressure against her, and then, nothing.

There was a dull thud, a cracking of bone, and a sharp intake of breath and before she could open her eyes, she felt the drunkard release her and stumble to the ground. She she finally opened her eyes, she found his face covered in blood, and his nose cocked at an odd angle.

Hermione turned from her customer to his attacker, fearing she might find some other man who wanted her for himself—but what she saw was much worse. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Granger." Draco whispered, disbelievingly, through a strangled throat.

Hermione could say nothing. She was too afraid and embarassed to run. Could Malfoy possibly want a go with her as wel?

"Granger." Draco breathed again, stepping a bit closer to her. "It is you." He said, when she flinched at his tone. "Merlin what has become of you?" His voice was unexpectedly soft, and Hermione couldn't meet his eyes.

"Go away Malfoy. You've done enough damage. You can't possibly do anymore." Hermoine spat coldly, hugging her coat to her body, she suddenly felt naked and exposed.

"I won't. I can't leave you here like this. Not with him. Not—" he didn't finish his sentence, only motioned to the situation he'd found her in. He reached for her arm, but she drew back from him in fear and shame.

"Come on, Granger. I'm not leaving you here." Malfoy said, irritated at her insolence. He took her arm and aparated both of them back to the front gates of the Malfoy Manor.

_**Author's Notes:**_

_**OBVIOUSLY THIS IS OOC! And it's not…anything compliant either. Pure Fiction and artistic-license. So don't flame me for not following the books. :P **_

_**This is just the first chapter—and I know it's a bit…graphic. But it's rated M for a reason. As the story progresses, you'll learn more about Hermione's and Draco's pasts I'll also be sort of molding my story around the entire song.. so you'll see more of it in following chapters.**_

_**Also, the Song, "Black Balloon" is by GooGooDolls. And I don't own the song or anything in Harry Potter. Just in case you might have thought otherwise.  
Poor Hermione! Why's she on the streets? What happened between her and Ron? Can she even do magic still? All these questions and more will be answered in upcoming chapters!**_

_**Stay tuned!  
**__**  
**_


	2. Hermione's Tale

Chapter 2: Hermione's Tale

_**A thousand other boys could never reach you  
How could I have been the one  
I saw the world spin beneath you  
And scatter like ice from the spoon  
That was your womb  
**_

Draco opened the great mahogany door to the Manor and stepped aside for Hermione to enter. She stared at him a moment, in shock or fear, Draco couldn't tell, and then stepped over the threshold.

"Would you like something to drink?" Draco asked, slipping his overcoat off and handing it to a house elf that took it and disappeared. "Hot tea maybe? Or Cocoa?"

Hermione just stared at him.

"Come, you must be hungry—when was the last time you had anything decent to eat? I'll make you whatever you want." Draco began to walk off down a hallway Hermione supposed led to the kitchen and she was sure he expected her to follow him, but she couldn't force her feet to move. She followed him with her eyes.

Draco entered the kitchen, and flicked his wand to turn the lights on. "Granger I will cook everything if you don't get in here and tell me what you want." Draco's tone was one of warning.

Hermione jumped a little, but followed in the direction Draco had gone and made her way into the Kitchen.

"Now what do you want?" Draco asked, he held the refrigerator door open, and he was holding a glass of wine in one hand—obviously for himself.

"I'm fine. Really. I don't need your charity." Hermione said, and tried to be as pleasant as possible.

Draco stared at her like she'd suddenly grown a second head. "Charity?" He snorted. "Charity is what I give out to St. Mungo's and to the Ministry's Orphans of War Organization. You, Granger, are not charity."

"Then what am I? Why did you feel it necessary to bring me here?" Hermione said, she hadn't unfolded her arms from across her chest an it was beginning to make Draco angry.

"I brought you here because I know what it's like!" Draco spat.

Hermione snorted. "Not likely." She muttered, looking away from the blond man.

"Ok. If you want to play that game." Draco said, shutting the fridge with a bang and coming to stand against the bar in front of her. Shall we compare notes?"

Hermione looked up and stared at Draco for a long moment, before sighing and wiping at her face. "I'll take you up on that tea." She said, quietly.

Draco nodded, smiled and poured some of the tea he'd already prepared into a mug for her, before leading her into a smaller, more comfortable sitting room in the back of the Manor. "Make yourself comfortable." He said, opening the door and he had to hide a smile when she gasped at all the books that lined the walls. The room had once been his father's study—though now it served as a museum of all sorts of ancient tomes. Draco didn't usually like sitting in this room alone.

Hermione chose a comfortable chair beside the fire and placed her mug in her lap. She curled her feet up underneath her and stared into the flames intently.

Draco couldn't help but notice that there was a vacancy in her now that there wasn't when they'd graduated. Granted, he'd only sought to torment her and her friends when they were younger—but after his father and mother's deaths, Draco found himself free to think and to feel any way he chose.

"Why do you want to hear my story?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione Granger, smartest witch of our generation—highest test scores in a century—and she's selling herself on the streets? There's something that doesn't add up Granger. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." Draco said, taking a sip of his wine and then setting it on a side table next to the chair he'd chosen directly across from her.

Hermione stared at her tea for a while, before raising it to her lips and taking a long drink. "I never expected things to turn out this way." She mumbled. "I thought everything would be perfect—that I would get my happily ever after once Voldemort was gone. But… one thing led to another and well, here I am."

Draco wasn't satisfied. "I thought you and Weasley married? Why aren't you still with him?" Draco felt bile rise in his throat and he didn't know why—he had a feeling that it was at least partly Ron's fault for Granger's current position and, well, he never did like the bloke…

"Ron and I did marry. About six months after we graduated." Hermione said. "It was alright for a while. Better than all right, actually. It wasn't until nearly two years into the marriage that things started to fall apart." Hermione physically shuddered at the memory. "We were trying for a baby." She whispered—hoping that if she didn't speak it loudly, it would hurt her less.

"And you didn't get pregnant?" Draco asked.

Hermione shook her head. I went to the doctor several times, and finally—one of the fertility medics at St. Mungo's informed us that…" Hermione struggled through a sob, "…that because of the injuries I'd sustained in the war… I wouldn't be able to have children."

Draco sat back in his chair. So Granger's ability to procreate had been destroyed during the war—Draco knew she'd been tortured a number of times by Death Eaters that were allowed to stay in his own home and it disgusted him. He knew that she was battered when she last encountered Lucius Malfoy, during the final battles of the Great War, and Draco somehow couldn't escape the feeling that it was his fault. He had family that had helped to destroy this woman—it was all he could do to help her now, after finding her this way.

Hermione continued, "Ron was understanding at first—compassionate even—but as time wore on, and Ginny got pregnant with her and Harry's first—well, Ron got jealous. His brothers had all become fathers with the exception of the twins, and they were still single—so Ron felt pressure to perform his familial duty—as it were."

Draco gritted his teeth. Already he knew where this was going—and he knew he wasn't going to like it.

"He dropped out of Auror training to join the Cannons as Keeper, and was gone long hours and sometimes for days at time when they played away games. It wasn't until our third year that he first laid his hands on me in anger." Hermione whispered, she'd set the tea aside, for fear of shaking so much she'd spill it, and she'd clasped her hands in her lap. Her eyes hadn't left their place, rooted to the carpet, which separated Draco and Hermione in front of the fire. She traced the patterns with meticulous care to keep herself from breaking down. "The Cannons had lost the game that would have qualified them for the Cup—and he was upset about that." Hermione rationalized.

Draco's hands gripped the edges of the chair he was sitting in. How could Granger just sit there and tell him these things with no emotion at all?

"I had brought home a few brochures on adoption—I thought it was a good idea, since it was ninety-five percent certain I couldn't even conceive a child, let alone carry one to term—when he saw them he just go so angry… I've never seen him so angry." Hermione choked and swallowed hard against her emotions.

Draco leaned forward in his chair. "He hit you because you were unable to bear his children?"

Hermione didn't answer right away, but then, slowly, she nodded in the affirmative. "Every time it happened, it came down to my ability to have his children. Even though, most of the time, I knew he was angry or frustrated at something else." Hermione said, "We began to fight constantly. It wasn't like our bickering back in school—this was physical, mental and emotional brutality. And we were both guilty of trying to hurt the other." She admitted.

"What caused you to leave him?"

"It was the day he brought _HER _home." Hermione said, spitting out the word "her" as if it were acid. "Lavender Brown."

"He cheated on you?"

"Probably with more than one woman—but I only know about Lavender. They're married now. Have a child on the way." Hermione said, her voice sad, regretful. "After I caught them together in our marriage bed, I filed for divorce. I just wanted to get away. I didn't want to be around Ron or anyone related to Ron. So I left London—got a small apartment above a book store and began to work as a Muggle librarian for a while."

"You left the magical world? Is that why I found you that day in Muggle England?" Draco asked.

Hermione nodded. "They say that a witch's or a wizard's powers are tied to their emotions. That's why children have a tendency to destroy glasses and send things hurtling across the room—my emotions were so mixed up—I've lost my magic." Hermione finally confessed, and for the first time that night, looked up into the gray-blue eyes of Draco Malfoy.

Draco couldn't believe it. "Have you tried getting help? What about contacting our old professors—Merlin Granger! You're the smartest witch of the age and you didn't immediately contact someone about that problem?"

Hermione shook her head sadly. "I sort of just figured things had come full circle. Besides, I didn't really want any part in the magical world at the time—as much as I love it here—I can't bear the shame of what I've been doing—of the fact that I've ended a Wizarding Marriage—of the fact that I'm unable to have children. What man could want me now?"

A small part of Draco thought he might know the answer to that but he stifled it before the thought could come to fruition. "Granger, its time you made your way back into the magical world. You belong here. And I simply won't allow you to go back to the life you've been leading." Draco said, his voice firm. He was not going to be argued with. "You can stay here. The house elves have already set up a room for you upstairs. And I could use… a potions expert… in the company that I run. If you're interested in a job." Draco cocked his head to the side, not taking his eyes off the girl before him.

Hermione was shocked. "Why are you doing this for me? You hate Harry—you don't like anyone who's not pureblooded… I don't understand."

Draco almost chuckled. "Well, you see, in the four years since Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy has done just a little bit of growing up." He responded.

Hermione nodded, unable to question him. "Thank you, Malfoy. I don't know what else to say. This is all too much."

"Think nothing of it." Draco said, "You're actually doing me a favor."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow.

"If you haven't noticed—we are the only two in this Manor." Draco intoned.

Hermione looked around the room, as if contemplating the large estate's vastness and potential for hideaways. "I heard about your parents—I also heard…that you stood against them during the trial. Is that true?"

Draco nodded solemnly. "All part of a story I shall have to tell you another night. For it's getting late, and tomorrow, we must go shopping for a wardrobe for you. I am pretty sure my mother's robes will fit you—but I know you will want things of your own for work."

Hermione stared at him open mouthed. "But Malfoy, I don't—"

"Relax, Granger. Its not like I can't afford it. Allow me to do this for you—out side of the few places I donate to—I have no one to spend money on." Draco said, an annoyed smirk playing on his lips.

Hermione blushed a thing she hadn't done in years—and reluctantly nodded her head. "Then I insist on helping you around this place. I can cook—clean…"

"I have house elves." Draco said, looking at her as if she were crazy.

"And I believe you remember my stance on the treatment of those poor creatures." Hermione said, a glimmer of her old spark returning to her eyes.

Draco laughed to himself. "That's right. Sporks or whatever you called it."

"SPEW." Hermione reminded him. "Right. That's so much better."

"I thought you said you'd changed since Hogwarts?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"What can I say—something just stay with you for life." Draco smirked, and stood. Come—I'll show you to your rooms."

--

Three floors up, and at the other end of the Manor, Hermione was led to a set of French doors that opened into the most beautiful room she'd ever seen in her life. The room was done in pale blues and silvers with golden trim hither and thither throughout. It looked as though it were prepared for a wedding night.

"I can't stay here." She gasped, holding her hands to her chest.

"Why not? Colors not to your liking?" Draco asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Malfoy—your home is absolutely beautiful. This room is the most wonderful thing I've ever seen. I am not worthy of even stepping foot in something so beautiful." She whispered in awe.

Draco gave her a gentle shove. "I don't know where you got that rubbish—but I do hope you get it out of your system quickly. You and I both know you're the most talented person in this building—even if you say you can't do magic."

Hermione didn't look convinced, but she didn't protest anymore.

Draco followed her into the room and watched as she explored her surroundings. She gasped when she entered the bathroom and found it to be nearly as big as the bedroom was. It included an antechamber complete with vanity and walk-in closet. When she reemerged, she was pale, and had a shocked look on her face.

"Malfoy—I don't know what to say… Thank you. For everything." Hermione was struggling with tears. She was so unsure about her situation—about the fact that it was Draco Malfoy who was offering all of this to her, but she refused to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

"You're welcome." Draco said, softly. Looking down at the bushy haired girl, he felt something stir inside him. It was late, and he knew he was tired—but he couldn't help but imagine that it could be…

Draco turned and walked to the door—"I'm just down the hall if you need anything. And the house elves will get you anything they can." He nodded at her.

Hermione blushed self consciously, and nodded back at him. She watched as he began to shut the door behind him and she called his name, "Draco—I" she paused; it was the first time she'd ever used his first name. It felt… nice… in her mouth. "I just wanted to tell you thank you… again…" she stumbled over her words, feeling awkward under his silver gaze.

Draco's breath caught when he heard his name. She'd never used it before. "You're welcome. Good night…Hermione." Draco said, his face was expressionless, but his eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the room. He nodded to her before shutting the door upon his exit.

--

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat and looked about the room once more. It was absolutely stunning. The ceiling was vaulted, and had a mural of silver and gold and light blue clouds on it. The moldings were all done in silver with gold accents. The sheets on the bed were pale blue silk with silver and gold trim. The room was divine.

Walking back into the bathroom's antechamber, she opened the door to the walk-in closet and found it full of women's clothes. She assumed that they were his mother's at one time. She fingered a few of the dresses, amazed at their exquisiteness, before turning and heading into the bathroom and drawing herself a warm bath.

She stripped down and stood before a full-length mirror next to the tub and looked herself over for the first time in months. She appeared truly wretched, and she knew it—she knew her skin hung from her bones, her hair had lost its sheen, but what she focused on were the scars that drew maps across her torso. There were two that had nearly cost her her life during the Great War. The first, she'd received during her fifth year—when Antonin Dolohov struck her with a dark curse across her chest and side. The scar trailed from just under her left breast, across her torso and down almost to her right hip. This scar was fading—it was lighter than others that she bore—and she was glad for that.

Reaching a finger up, she traced the second of the scars that marred her torso. This one curved up one leg, and across her lower abdomen. It had been thrown by the Dark Lord himself. Sometimes, Hermione still felt the pain of that curse, as it coursed through her veins. And as long as she would bear the scars, she would bear the memories that produced them.

Finally, allowing the tears to fall, Hermione sunk into the bubbly water and allowed the fragrant soaps to carry her away from her misery.

--

When Hermione pulled herself from the tub, she found that one of the elves had laid a robe out for her, and had placed a small tray of sandwiches and pumpkin juice on the coffee table in the main bedroom by the fire. She smiled at their thoughtfulness—somehow not concerned that they were being unfairly treated in this house—and ate her fill before settling into the great comfort that was the large bed in the room.

She was asleep before her curly head hit the pillow.

--

Down in the study, Draco sat staring at the fire as it dwindled down to coals. His mind was racing with the story Hermione had shared with him. There were still so many unanswered questions. Why hadn't Potter taken her in? Why didn't anyone go looking for her? What about her parents?—the questions never stopped.

Before long, he found himself dozing in the easy chair, and made his way up to his room. He paused ad the French doors leading to the room he'd given to Hermione and listened for any sign of distress. When he heard nothing, he continued to his room for another restless night of sleep.

_**  
Author's Note**_

_**Chapter 2… I'm beginning to work things out here… there's still a long way to go though.**_

_**What'd you guys think?**_


	3. Helping You Helping Me

Chapter 3: Helping You Helping Me

_**Comin down the world turned over**_

_**And angels fall without you there**_

_**And I go on, as you get colder**_

_**Or are you someone's prayer**_

Draco woke up early. The sun hadn't begun to shine through his tall window yet, and he knew it was well before sunrise. Knowing he wouldn't sleep any longer, he grumbled and crawled from his large bed and dressed in loose fitting jeans. The house was warm, thanks to the house elves attention to the fires all throughout the night, so he forewent a shirt, and made his way to the kitchen for a glass of pumpkin juice.

As he left his room, he paused as he passed the room he'd offered to Hermione the night before. The door was slightly ajar—probably because one of the house elves had been in and out with laundry or some such errand—and his curiosity got the best of him. He slid the door open just enough to see the bed where the woman lay.

Hermione's hair was splayed out across the pillows, and she lay on her stomach, the covers were bunched at the bottom of the bed, and Draco saw that she was dressed in a white, silk nightgown. He smiled at how much better she looked already—having taking a bath, had something to eat and had a night's rest in a decent bed. He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't notice her eyes flutter open and focus on him.

Hermione twitched slightly when she realized that Malfoy was watching her from the doorway. She didn't know how long he'd been there—or why he was there at all, but it sort of made her uncomfortable. She sat up, keeping her eyes on him, and settled her legs over the edge of the bed.

Draco started. He didn't realize she was awake—but when she moved, it was clear that she'd been watching him watching her for sometime. He cleared his throat and felt his cheeks redden of their own accord.

"How long have you been there?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know." Draco responded, rubbing his neck embarrassedly. "I was on my way to the kitchen when I saw your door open…"

Hermione nodded, and then realized that he was without a shirt. She allowed her eyes to liner on his chest and travel down his abdomen. He was still build from his years of playing Quittich, she thought—he must not have lost the habit when school let out. She was used to seeing men half dressed in one way, shape or form, but for the first time, she felt something stir in her, looking at Malfoy that way. 'It's because I've known him so long.' Hermione thought to herself, 'that's all it is. All men are the same.' Shaking herself from her reverie, she stood and reached for the robe the elves had laid out for her. "You said you were headed to the kitchen?" she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Uh. Yeah, I was." Draco said, momentarily stunned at her audacity. The Granger he knew would never have been so bold as to walk around in a nightgown and thin silk robe around a man she hardly knew—much less a man she spent most of her childhood loathing.

The sun was just beginning to turn the sky pink when they made it to the ground floor of the Manor. Draco led Hermione across the huge house to the kitchens and began to pull out things to make breakfast with.

"You make breakfast for yourself?" Hermione asked, and she couldn't keep the condescension from her tone.

"My Grandmother taught me how to cook. When I was little, I used to pretend I was mixing potions when we made stew. It just sort of grew from there." Draco said, giving her a hard look. "I know how to cook—and I prefer to do it myself."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I never would have guessed a Malfoy would dirty their hands with such menial labor."

"I'm not the same Malfoy I used to be, Granger." Draco ground out, lifting two eggs from their carton and cracking them over a bowl.

"I guess it will take some getting used to. I'm sorry." Hermione's voice softened. "Things just seem so backwards now. I'm standing in my former enemy's kitchen in his mother's nightgown, and I haven't spoken to any of my so called friends in over a year… almost two." Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"Why haven't you spoke to Potter or the Weaslette since you and Weaselbee split?" Draco asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"It wasn't that easy, I'm afraid. When Ron and I split, Harry and Ginny were on their Honeymoon. I had to get away from the magical world—when Ron and I severed the bond and made the divorce official, it felt like I'd never be able to do magic again. I just thought it was a sign. I ran into the Muggle world, where it would be difficult for them to track me—but not entirely impossible, because I knew Harry knew about agencies that could do such things… So I stayed on the move, after the little book store I opened closed down. Finally, I faked my own death—turned a lead into the local police' station with a name, I was missing. The police naturally did a search, and after a few weeks labeled me as missing with no hope of being found… they didn't even have a picture of me to run in the papers. I fled the country for a while. I was in France when I over heard some little old ladies talking about the huge upset my death had caused for Harry Potter and his pregnant wife. Something about how they searched and searched and couldn't even find the body. They'd given up after a month…but I get the feeling he's still looking." Hermione said, but her voice had faded as she explained herself.

"You're telling me Potter doesn't know where you've been all this time? You know he's probably blamed the entire thing on Weasley, right?" Draco had mixed the eggs together with some spices and a little milk, and was pouring them in a hot frying pan.

"At first, that's what I wanted, I think." Hermione admitted. "I was so angry. So hurt by Ron's actions. I'm still mixed up about it all." She sighed. "And now, what am I supposed to do, walk back into his life like nothing happened?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders. Even he didn't think it was right to hide such a thing from people he knew wanted to help her—from people who never would have let her…do what she was doing the day he found her. "I suppose not." Was all he said.

Hermione remained quiet, only sat on a stool at the bar sipping pumpkin juice and watching Draco cook.

--

When they'd finished their breakfast, the house elves had appeared and cleaned up their plates, and Hermione and Draco ventured into the Great Room to continue their conversation.

"Are you going to tell me what turned your life around?" Hermione asked, as she placed herself gingerly on the end of a comfortable looking sofa, tucking her feet beneath her.

Draco nodded. "I'll start with Graduation—since that's the last time we really saw each other." Draco began, taking a deep breath. "You see, when we graduated, and you went home with your friends, I returned home to a house that had been turned upside down by Aurors. Even the house elves couldn't fix some of the things that were completely destroyed in this place. Family heirlooms were broken or missing. And you know what Granger—I was happy. I was overjoyed that the house had been torn apart. Because I hated looking at it. I started remodeling the house that day and I haven't finished it even now. The wing you're staying on is the same as mine because the other wings have been…neglected. There are simply too many memories there. I hate that I can walk into a room in my house and point out stains in the carpet from my own blood." Draco's voice was low, and he didn't bother to hide the resentment he felt for his parents.

"What you and the rest of the Golden Trio never knew, Granger was that I never wanted to be my father. But, when I was around him. When he wasn't off murdering Muggles and Muggle-born witches and wizards, he was beating me until I did every little thing he wanted me to. I was your enemy because it was beaten into me. Because my father said so."

Hermione stared at Draco with newfound knowledge. Her eyes glimmered and it looked as if she wanted to say something, but she kept her mouth closed.

"So when I got the letter that I was to appear in court to testify against my father, it felt as though some great pressure had been released from me. It felt like I'd finally been released from my cage. The day they both were kissed—that was the day I finally started to clean this place up. It had been a month since I'd returned home. I wasn't sure I didn't just want to sell the house and all the stuff in it and start over—but part of me knows that I can make something better out of it." Draco sighed.

"I never knew you hated your father so much." Hermione said, a bit dumbfounded by it all. "I guess, since you looked so much alike, and you were such a prat to me and my friends when we were younger—I just figured you were the next Malfoy Heir… the next Death Eater in training."

"I never was a Death Eater. My mother forbade my being marked." Draco whispered. "That is the only thing I can thank her for."

"Why did you choose to open this business you say you run? Surely you don't need the money?" Hermione changed the subject after an awkward pause.

"It was never about the money. I've always been interested in potion making. Its like I said during breakfast. It was my best subject in school—and I earned my grade, despite the fact that you may think Snape gave me top marks because I was in his house." Draco looked at her meaningfully and she shrugged her shoulders acceding the point. "I do it because it gets me out of this blasted house." Draco said, looking, for emphasis, around at the high ceilinged room.

"Your Manor is amazing. But it's way too big for one person." Hermione agreed.

"Exactly. It's filled with memories I'd rather not have to deal with, too." Draco said, not looking at her. "That's how I stumbled across you. I was sitting in a coffee shop in Muggle England. Just trying to avoid coming home."

Hermione nodded slightly. She let the silence drag out a moment, before lifting her eyes shyly to Draco's face. "How long are you going to let me stay here?"

Draco sat back in his chair and stared at her in thought. "Honestly, I hadn't thought about it." He replied, "But I suppose you can stay as long as you want. I'm not using this place for much—and it's really too big, as you said, for one person alone."

Hermione nodded. "If I stay, will you let me help you around here? Help you fix the place up? You mentioned those other wings…"

"I…" Draco hadn't considered ever reopening the other wings. They were the ones his family had used during the War. There were true horrors on that side of the house, and he wasn't sure he was ready to face them. But, he thought, Hermione seemed so willing to help him—and perhaps it was just what he needed. Someone to be there with him—to help him forget about the past. Draco nodded to himself, and said, "I'll make you a deal, Granger. You can help me with those parts of the Manor—though I warn you, those were the sections of the house that were most heavily used during the War—and I'll help you get your magic back." Draco leaned forward, looking closely at Hermione's face.

"Malfoy—my magic… I don't think it's ever going to come back." Hermione said, and she sounded for all the world like a lost child. "It left when I left Ron."

Draco was determined, "You forget that I am a genius at potions, Granger. And with your help, we might just stumble upon a breakthrough. I know you can't brew potions properly without magic, but you can read about them. And if I remember correctly, you were a genius when I came to studying for stuff like that." Draco reassured her.

Hermione paused a moment and then nodded. "Alright. I suppose it's a deal. I'll help you and you can help me—and… and we'll see where this goes. But no one can know that I'm here." Hermione warned.

Draco frowned a bit. "That's not a big deal. I simply floo my secretary and tell her that I have business away from the office until further notice. They can hold things down there without my presence. We can work from the Manor—I have a potions lab on the other side of the kitchens." Draco compromised.

Hermione began to smile, "Wow… Great. When can we get started?"

--

Both Hermione and Draco dressed and found their way to the potions lab before it was ten o'clock in the morning. Draco had picked his way through the enormous library and had selected a few books and scrolls that he thought might help. He gave them to Hermione for research and set about digging through his various potions manuals to see if he could find any kind of magic restoration potion recipes.

A few hours in, and Hermione had flipped through two gigantic books and found nothing; Draco had brewed one potion and was waiting for it to cool enough for Hermione to test, and had started on a second in the meantime.

"There's nothing here!" Hermione screamed suddenly, frustrated. The sudden noise startled Draco and he dumped three times more wartroot into the cauldron than was necessary. The bright green liquid bubbled over the brim and spilled all over the floor—just missing Draco's retreating shoes.

"Watch out!" Draco said, pulling Hermione up from her chair and dragging her behind him. "I don't know what this combination of materials can do!" They watched as the green goo reached the table and chair Hermione was studying at and began to sizzle and eat through the wood.

"Interesting." They both said at the same time and looked at each other and laughed a bit.

"Too much wartroot created an acid that seems to only eat through organic materials." Draco hypothesized.

"Let's test it." Hermione said, pulling a brand new, processed plastic clip from her hair and tossing it into the green puddle. The good covered the thing, but did not destroy it. "That is interesting. Not useful for our purposes, though. And its about to get to those books!" Hermione cried, leaping over the puddle, and landing haphazardly on the chair as it was tilting—she reached down, grabbed the tomes she'd placed on the table and that were about to slide off, and carefully leapt off the chair to the other side of the green river.

"Didn't know you were a gymnast." Draco muttered, waving his wand and cleaning up the mess.

"Me either." Hermione said, shaking her head. She placed the books down on a nearby counter and righted the chair again.

"Let's try not to let that happen again." Draco intoned. "Next time we might not be so lucky.

--

They took a break for lunch, and then took a walk in the gardens outside the Manor. Draco and Hermione passed much of the time in a kind of companionable silence—having come to an unspoken truce the night before or early that morning, it seemed they felt comfortable in the other's presence now.

After a while of walking, Hermione turned to Draco and asked a question that had been on her mind since they'd struck the deal that morning. "Do you ever think that things happen the way they do for a reason?"

Draco looked down at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Well—Do you think that there was some…reason… that you found me when you did. Do you think that I ended up here for a reason?"

"Since when did you get into divination, Granger?" Draco quirked an eyebrow and smirked at her. When she didn't answer, he pushed forward, "honestly, I don't know. I don't even know why I decided to help you out. It just… seemed wrong somehow… that the great Hermione Granger should end up that way…"

"You really have changed, Malfoy." Hermione whispered.

"Not really. I just finally got the freedom to be able to express my true feelings without regret." Draco replied.

They walked back toward the Manor in silence, and just as they were climbing the steps, Hermione whispered something Draco almost didn't catch, "I don't go by Granger, anymore."

Draco looked down at her puzzled. "What?"

"My last name." Hermione clarified.

"Surely it's not still Weasley?" Draco made a face.

"No." Hermione said, and pushed the front door open. "Its just… Hermione…now."

Draco followed her in, still not quite understanding, "You mean, you don't claim a last name at all?"

"Last names tie you down." Hermione reasoned. "I couldn't very well remain a Weasley. And my poor parents, if they ever found out the truth—that I was still alive—its just safer…"

Draco shook his head. "Well, Hermione, no-last-name, do you want to go and see the parts of the house I haven't touched, now?" Draco smiled at her, and couldn't help but picture an angel who'd fallen from the sky—no name, no real place in the world at all… And yet he'd been lucky enough to pick her up and take her home.

--

Part of Draco, the part of him he didn't quite understand, remembered all the nights he'd lied awake in his bed and prayed to whoever would listen for someone to walk into his life and make him want to be the kind of man his father never was.

Even though he felt he barely knew her. Even though they were sworn enemies in their school days, Draco felt that Hermione could make him that man. It scared him and it excited him and it filled him with hope. He hadn't quite figured out how, but he knew he would help her get her magic back—and he knew that somehow—going back into the parts of the Manor he feared the most would be ok, if she was by his side.

It was this courage that led Draco to suggest they explore the unfinished parts of the Malfoy Manor.

They left the front hall and headed up the Grand Staircase to the left side of the house. The house elves kept the dust off most of the furniture, but once could tell the place hadn't been habited in a while. Draco stopped, and Hermione behind him, when the reached two large, heavy looking double doors that blockaded a hallway off. "You're sure you want to help me with this?" Draco asked, looking over his shoulder at Hermione.

She held her hands to her heard, chewed her lip with anticipation, but her Gryffindor courage wouldn't let her back down. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "It'll be fine, Draco. We'll be together." With the other she reached forward and took the knob in her hand and twisted the door open.

_**Author's Notes:**_

_**I'm honestly SHOCKED at all the favorites and reviews I've received so far for this story! I'm so happy all of you like it so far! **_

_**Hopefully, I've answered a few questions that were left blank in the first two chapters. Things are going to pick up pretty quickly in the next few chapters—as the song and as the story progresses. So be prepared for a few twists, and a few surprises!**_

_**  
Thanks again for everyone's support! You really are what keeps me writing!**_

_**FM**_


	4. Fighting Old Demons and Finding a Cure

Chapter 4: Fighting Old Demons

_**You know the lies they always told you**_

_**And the love you never knew**_

_**What's the things they never showed you**_

_**That swallowed the light from the sun**_

_**Inside your room**_

Draco allowed Hermione to lead him into the Western Wing of Malfoy Manor. Her hand remained on his arm as they crossed the threshold.

"It looks like a tornado hit this place." Hermione commented as she looked down the hall to see all the doors open and things strewn about the place.

"I told you the Aurors tore the house up completely. The whole Manor looked this way when I got home from graduation." Draco affirmed. And swallowed thickly.

"Well, no time like the present." Hermione sighed and stepped forward, over a shattered vase. "Are you coming?"

Draco hesitated. "…Yeah." He said, shrugging off the feelings of dread and the cold chills that ran up and down his spine.

--

When Hermione reached the doorway to the first room she discovered that it was an office or study of some kind. There were bookshelves all along the walls, much like the study downstairs, but this one was missing a vast number of books—in some areas, there were no books at all. The desk had been cleared of any knick-knacks that might have inhabited the surface, and the drawers had been pulled from their sheaves. Hermione walked over the gigantic antique desk and picked up the discarded drawer from the floor. She slipped it back into its cradle and then looked up to see Draco watching her from the doorway.

"What room was this?" She asked.

"My mother's office." Draco said, looking at the floor. It was littered with papers and glass.

"Did anything…bad… happen to you here?"

Draco didn't answer. Instead he fingered an imperfection in the doorjamb.

"Draco?" Hermione called his name—and she wasn't sure when she'd started calling him that.

"My father used to beat my mother a lot in this room." Draco said. Finally meeting her eyes with his own.

Hermione looked around the room and tried to imagine it in pristine condition. She looked over to one of the windows and saw that one of the bookshelves had fallen over and was leaning against a couch. There were several books laying helter-skelter on the floor beneath it. She moved around the desk and tried to push the bookshelf upright again. After grunting a few times, she turned back to Draco, who hadn't budged from the threshold.

"Will you come help me?" she asked, gently.

Draco hesitated momentarily, but stepped into the room and rounded the couch to the other side of the bookcase and began to help Hermione push it upright again.

Hermione positioned herself in the middle of the bookshelf and put her back to the shelves in order to brace its weight. She and Draco got it upright again, and Hermione placed a few of the heavier books back on its shelves. Draco chuckled at her love for literature and shook his head.

"Come on. There's a lot more to see." He said, suddenly feeling a little more courageous.

Hermione smiled and followed him out of the room and across the hall.

--

In this room, there was a large ornate table surrounded by several chairs all cut in the same design. There was a fireplace at one end, and a door leading into the room next door, Hermione presumed, at the other. The walls were bare, but there were hooks where paintings had once hung.

"This looks like a meeting room of some kind." Hermione guessed, looking at Draco for confirmation.

Draco nodded. "The Death Eaters met here often. I met the Dark Lord for the first time here." He walked around the table and paused behind a chair about halfway down. "I was sitting right here. He told me I was to be his next right hand man. I was going to follow my father's footsteps." Draco shuddered.

Hermione shuddered as well, looking at the chair Draco had indicated, and then at the one at the head of the table. "I can't imagine what went on in this room. Though it does look relatively untouched." She looked around, and it was true, though the paintings had been removed and some of the chairs had been overturned, there was mostly nothing wrong with the room itself. Hermione righted a chair that lay on its side and looked back at Draco. "Shall we move on?"

Draco nodded.

--

The next room looked to be a bedroom of some sort. Hermione pushed the door completely open and looked around. Immediately she recognized this room as the room Draco had spent time in as a schoolboy. She looked back up at him and his face had grown dark. "We don't have to go in here." Hermione said softly.

Draco shook his head, he wanted her to see. He needed her to know that he was just as human as anyone else. "Go on."

Hermione slowly walked in and gasped at the disorder of the room. She could tell that it was once opulent for a boy's bedroom with its king-sized four-poster and the silk sheets that still covered the mattresses. She noted the dark rich woods and ornate engravings on the wardrobe and desk. She also noted that his favorite Quittich team had at one time been Puddlemere. "Your room was nice." She whispered, turning around and looking at him.

Draco shrugged. "You just aren't looking hard enough." He said, and led her over to the window. Through it, she saw what looked to be a private Quittich pitch, and noted to herself that that must have been how he kept in shape, before Draco took her hand and pointed to a spot on the wall just below the window frame.

There was a slight indention in the pale gray wall and what looked like a stain that ran down onto the carpet. Hermione reached out hesitant fingers to touch the discoloration. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked.

Draco struggled not to snarl. "My father. I was ten. During breakfast I sent a glass of pumpkin juice flying across the room and it smashed through a window. I was sick and upset that my mother wanted me to go shopping with her. He taught me not to talk back."

Hermione turned from the stain to look at Draco in astonishment. She had an almost insatiable urge to run her fingers through his hair to be sure the gash wasn't still there. She refrained.

Draco didn't let go of her arm, but pulled her across the room to the wardrobe, where the outline of a small hand was imprinted against the wood about halfway down. "For letting the peacocks out of the yard." He said, his voice soft and angry.

Hermione didn't have a chance to respond before he took her to a spot by the bed, there was a burn mark in the carpet, and another discoloration, larger, and darker. "When I refused the dark mark the first time."

"Draco…."

But Draco wasn't finished. He led her to the adjoining bathroom, which was also done in silvers and greens, and pointed to an edge of the mirror, which had been shattered and was missing. He then lifted up his shirt and exposed a jagged scar right above his right hip. When I told him I wouldn't marry Pansy." Draco sighed deeply and sank onto the closed lid of the toilet. "My father never told me he loved me. He only told me I wasn't good enough. He only told me that I was a failure. I was a disgrace to the Malfoy bloodline. And he blamed my mother for it." He finally admitted.

Hermione felt her heart break all over again. She wanted to pull him to her and comfort him as if he were a small child. Part of her wanted to be able to give him the love that he'd never received from his family. But she wasn't the right person to do that—she wasn't even a complete woman—how could she love and expect to be loved by a man that had been through so much? Hermione put the thought out of her mind and knelt down before him.

Draco had put his elbows on his knees, and was holding his head in his hands. He sensed that she'd placed herself before him and he looked up at her miserably. She didn't say anything but he didn't need her to. As he sat there a mixture of relief and misery washed over him. The memories were terrible—but with Hermione there, he felt empowered to overcome them.

After a moment of stroking his head, Hermione leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Draco's forehead. She didn't know why she did it—only that it felt right—and that she knew he needed it.

Draco felt the tender gesture and his heart quivered. Never had a woman made him feel the things he was feeling as he sat before Hermione No-Last-Name. When she pulled away, Draco felt an overwhelming feeling of loss, and without thinking about what he was doing, he reached forward and caught her chin and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was short and chaste.

Hermione's eyes shot wide open at Draco's reaction. Her hands were on his knees and her back was straight and she braced herself as shock washed over her. She could feel the magic that coursed through his veins as their lips touched. It was always that way—with magical customers—she could feel their energy coursing through their veins when they touched her intimately. She expected it was because she had no magic of her own anymore. But she'd never felt it so strong, through such a light touch, through her lips before.

When Draco pulled away, he prepared himself for the slap he knew would surely knock him off the toilet seat. But there was no slap. When he looked down at Hermione, he saw that she only stared at him, her eyes wide, her lips parted gently. "I'm sorry…" he whispered. He looked down at her hands on his knees and contemplated their delicateness.

Hermione was rendered momentarily speechless as the kiss ended. She jolt of electricity shot straight through her and seemed to settle in her chest around her heart. It was something she'd never felt before. She wanted to look up her symptoms—to understand if maybe Draco could somehow recharge her magic with his own. The ideas were floating around her head and it wasn't until he spoke that she came back down to earth. "Oh… oh it's alright." She whispered back. "The strangest thing happened." She mentioned that she had sensed Draco's magical energy, and Draco raised his eyebrows.

"We should look into this." He nodded in agreement, and motioned for her to stand. When she did so, he stood and took her hand and led her out of his old room and back down the hallway. "We can finish this later—right now, I think getting your magic back should be our top priority."

Hermione nodded, though she really did want to explore. She waited as Draco closed the doors behind him and they made their way back down the Grand Staircase to the first floor where they retired to the study. Hermione pulled several books from the shelves, and handed Draco approximately half of them. "See what you can find!" she encouraged, always excited to be learning.

--

Hours passed and it was several hours after dinner when they made a breakthrough. "I think I might have something." Draco said, pulling himself up from his reclining position across the easy chair.

Hermione yawned and set her book flat in her lap to listen to him.

"It says here… "'For a witch or wizard who had experienced a spontaneous loss of magical power there is only one sure fire way of gaining that power back en totale."

"Go on…" Hermione said when Draco stopped and looked up at her.

"The victim of this phenomena has most often experienced excessive emotional trauma and the only cure that has proven one hundred percent effective if for the affected witch or wizard to establish an intimate connection with another witch or wizard.'" Malfoy read.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione's nose scrunched up in irritation. "I'm supposed to befriend every magical person I meet until I find the one who makes my power come back?"

"Hold on, there's a bit more." Draco added. "'The affected witch or wizard will know their intended magical counterpart if only they follow their heart.'"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't know who wrote that but I'm not in the mood for riddles!" with a frustrated noise Hermione fell back against the back of the chair and blew at the hair that had fallen in her face.

"Maybe it was nothing after all." Draco said, but his mind began spinning with ideas. 'Could it mean that Hermione had to fall in love with a magical person she felt a connection with?' Draco's stomach flipped and he swallowed against the feeling that rose in his chest. 'There's only one way to find out.' He thought, and vowed to try everything in his power to help the girl sitting across from him. And if it meant making her fall in love with him—the better for them both.

--

The house elves made them dinner that night and they took it to the study to continue their research. The moved from their chairs to onto the couch that said directly in front of the fire so that they could stretch out a bit more. They read until the sun went down and they read until the fire was nearly out.

Hermione read until she was cross-eyed. She felt herself drift off over a lengthy dissertation on the abilities of magical creatures to assist in rehabilitating the magically inept. She just couldn't hold her eyes open any longer. She dreamed that she was wrapped up in strong arms, arms that held her tight and protected her against her nightmares.

--

Draco was halfway through the most boring article he'd ever read on the healing properties of Grundle Juice when he felt a light pressure fall against his shoulder. He looked down to see that Hermione had drifted off in the middle of her own article. Smiling despite himself, Draco carefully lifted the text from his lap and placed it on the coffee table in front of him. Then he took the book from Hermione's lap and laid it atop his.

Unsure what else to do, and too tired to really care, Draco turned sideways on the couch and pulled Hermione into his arms. She hummed in sleep, and snuggled against him and he fought the urge to laugh with pure joy. It was impossible that she could make him so happy by doing nothing at all. He situated himself beside her on the couch, so that his back faced the back of the couch, and she was pressed up against him and he held her close to keep her from falling off and allowed himself to drift off as well—after all, it had been a long and trying day for them both.

_**Author's Notes:**_

_**Sooo… Chapter 4! Hooray!**_

_**I'll probably start doing this thing were I skip random segments of time in the upcoming chapters… because its just gonna drag if I have to write out every single day and every single minute detail… so I'll be moving things along.**_

_**Questions? Comments?**_


	5. What it Takes to Love Hermione

Chapter 5: What it takes to Love Hermione

_**Comin down the world turned over**_

_**And angels fall without you there**_

_**And I go on, as you get colder**_

_**Or are you someone's prayer**_

Draco woke up and immediately felt the stiffness in his back and legs. He knew he'd remained in one position all night long, but he couldn't remember why. Then, as he regained his senses, he realized that there was a soft weight pressed against his chest.

Draco slid his eyes open and looked down at the curly head that was tucked under his arm. At one point during the night, he'd rolled onto his back and pulled her to sort of lean against him, not quite on top of him. And now, she was pressed flush against his left side. Her hand, the one he could see, was curled slightly and resting on his chest beside her head, her left leg was drawn up and intertwined with his own. Draco had his arm around his left arm around her shoulders, and he turned into her slightly and wrapped his right arm around her, careful not to wake her.

There, with her wrapped in his arms, Draco knew she was perfect. Never before had he simply held a woman and been certain that he wanted to be with her. Never before had he considered that Hermione might be that woman—but here she was—she'd fallen into his lap seemingly by accident, and he'd gone and fallen head over heels for her without any reason at all. Draco couldn't explain it. He thought maybe it had something to do with the fact that he'd always found her pretty when they were younger, though he'd never have admitted it to himself then. Perhaps it was the fact that he was able to finally help someone, to do something besides wallow in his own self-loathing and misery—perhaps it was because when he was around Hermione, the house wasn't the same anymore. It wasn't cold or empty and he didn't hear the distant screams of the victims that had been tortured there. It was strange for Draco to think that it had only been two days—and already he could feel the difference in the atmosphere of his own home. It had only been two days, and he could already tell that he had feelings for Hermione No-Last-Name.

Draco hoped that what he had come across the night before had some truth to it. He hoped that there was some way he might get Hermione to fall for him the way he was falling for her, and he hoped he could be the man to help her get her magic back. He wanted to be that man.

Draco recounted all they'd done the day before… The potions he'd created were a bust. The first was two noxious to even ladle up—for once it cooled it give off a foul stench, and then ate through the bottom of the cauldron. The second, because he'd botched the recipe, turned into a furniture-eating molten river of snot-like goo, which caused Hermione to have to rescue the books she'd been reading through.

They'd also ventured into the parts of the house he feared most. Draco sighed when he remembered the room's they'd entered. His mother's old office. The meeting room the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord used to discuss plans and tactics, and his old bedroom… of the three, it was the last that had nearly pushed him over the edge. Draco didn't like that room. He didn't like the feeling he got when he went in it. He didn't like the reminders left behind on the walls and floor and furniture of the abuse he'd suffered. But he'd shown all of it to Hermione. And she'd felt sorry for him. She'd been scared for him. She'd wanted to comfort him; despite her own plight, she wanted to help him!

Draco pictured the scene in the bathroom in his mind and he felt his heart skip a beat. She'd kissed him. And then, he'd kissed her. Draco wasn't sure what it all meant, but he hoped it was a good sign when she didn't slap him. She'd told him about the strange charged feeling she'd experienced and, after reading the passage he'd read to her later that evening, he could only hope that he was meant to be the one to help her.

Draco found himself clutching Hermione to him as tight as he could without breaking her. He didn't want to let her go. Without realizing it, she'd come into his life and helped him face his demons even while he was trying to help her. Draco feared he needed her more than she needed him.

--

Hermione woke feeling strong arms around her and she was puzzled. Surely she hadn't gone to bed with one of her customers!? The thought startled her and she jerked her head upward to see a shock of blond hair and gray eyes staring down at her. When she saw the raw emotion in his eyes, she sucked in her breath and held it, waiting for him to speak.

Draco struggled to get his thoughts and emotions under control before he opened his mouth. "Morning." He whispered to her, blinking several times and loosening his hold slightly.

"Morning." She whispered back, a little nervously.

"I'm sorry if I woke you." Draco murmured letting his head fall back against he armrest of the couch.

"You didn't." Hermione said, and laid her head back against his chest momentarily.

"Good." Draco said. He let the room fall silent for several long moments.

Hermione was the next to break the silence. "How did we end up here?"

"You fell asleep on me last night, I'm afraid." Draco replied, a laugh in his voice.

"Oh." Hermione said, and honestly she didn't remember going to sleep.

"I don't mind." Draco said after another pause.

"Ok." Hermione said.

--

They laid there for another hour, talking every now and again, discussing their plans for the day, discussing where they should go as far as getting her magic back and restoring his home. They talked a bit about their pasts, about school, about their friends, but mostly, they talked about nothing at all—just content to share each other's company.

Hermione finally pulled herself from Draco's chest and sat up on the couch. Draco slid himself up against the armrest and watched her. "Its early still." Hermione said, looking at the antique clock on the mantle. "Barely nine."

Draco agreed. "I took the liberty of sending the elves out yesterday for your new wardrobe. Since you said you didn't want anyone to know you were…alive." Draco said, waiting for her reaction. "I didn't think you wanted to keep wearing my mother's stuff."

Hermione turned toward him with a look of shock on her face. "You didn't have to do that!" she said, but smiled anyway. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it. You'll probably find everything washed and put away in your rooms. I'm also pretty sure the clothes are charmed to fit themselves to you when you first put them on. That's the way my mom always did it—when she sent the elves out for us." Draco explained.

Hermione nodded. "Then I suppose I should go upstairs and shower and change."

"I'll fix breakfast." Draco said, smirking.

--

All day they decided to spend working on research for getting Hermione's magic back. Draco insisted even though Hermione was willing to help him with the house. "No, Hermione, your magic is far more important that a wing or two of this house." Draco reasoned. "We'll work on this first."

She didn't argue and was secretly grateful.

Draco and Hermione sat in the Great Room surrounded by mountains of parchment, scrolls and books, some of them scattered haphazardly around them, others stacked neatly into piles segregated into 'useful' or 'not useful'.

Twice they had come across passages in books that mirrored what Draco had found the night before, though neither were any clearer about how exactly another witch or wizard was supposed to help bring back the affected's powers. They did come across potential spells and potions that they would have to work out equations on to see if they were plausible in present day life—for the tomes they were found in were ancient—but the fact remained that by dinnertime that evening, they were no clearer as to how to help Hermione. Though Draco had begun to formulate a plan.

As he cooked dinner, he began to think about how to propose his plan to her. And when they were eating—stew with dinner rolls and glasses of wine—he finally laid his idea on the table.

"Hermione. I've been thinking." Draco stated, taking a sip of wine and setting it on the table, before looking at her. They were about finished with their meal, and he had finally talked himself into suggesting his plan to her.

"What about?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows rose.

"What if those passages we've found so far do hold an element of truth?"

'What do you mean? That I have to find a witch or wizard that can jump start my powers?" Hermione's face twisted.

"Yes. That's exactly what I mean. But—I have a hunch that it is more than just… a random witch or wizard." Draco tried to find the right words.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione was growing nervous under Draco's steady gray gaze.

"I think those passages mean that you must fall in love, Hermione." Draco said, as simply as if he were discussing the weather.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "That can't be. The reason I lost all my magic was emotional to begin with!" she protested.

"Exactly. Can you honestly tell me that you deserved to be loved? You don't think you're worthy, do you?" Draco's eyes never left Hermione's face. He watched it contort into a picture of self-loathing.

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO LOSE EVERYTHING!" Hermione cried.

"Don't I?" Draco asked, calmly. "I'm the one who's the orphan, Hermione."

Hermione felt the tears begin to slip down her face. "It's different, Draco. I was simply…replaced. I wasn't good enough. And I was replaced."

"Hermione you must never think that you weren't good enough. Weasley made a grave mistake. I count myself lucky that you ended up here in my home. And—if you will let me—I would like to…to try and earn your love." Draco said, leaning forward. He never took his eyes off of her.

Hermione sat in shock. Her mouth hung open, salty tears seeping in at the corners. She was shaking, utterly confused and in disbelieving. "You can't. You can't love me." She whispered.

Draco sat back, folding his arms over his chest. "Why not?"

"Because… because I can't give you what you want… what you need." Hermione hung her head.

"You mean because you don't have your magic anymore?" Draco asked.

"No. I mean because I can't…" she couldn't finish her sentence, but she didn't have to.

Draco slid his chair back from the table and stood. He walked around beside Hermione's chair and knelt down beside her. "You need to know that not all men are the same, Hermione. I'm asking for a chance to see where this might go—I'm not asking you to marry me. And if, one day, it does get that far, and you still can't have children…then we'll adopt."

"But you won't have any children of your own. What about an heir to the Malfoy line!?" Hermione shuddered under the weight of her own self-doubt.

"We will cross that bridge when and if we get there." Draco said. "Right, now, all I'm asking is for a chance to try to help you—to help us both." Draco said, his voice low and hopeful.

Hermione was silent for a moment, and then nodded. "Things are so upside down, now. Just four years later and it seems like the world is on its head. I'm divorced from someone who used to be my best friend in the world, and my worst enemy is asking to be my boyfriend." Hermione laughed flatly. "I do like you Draco…and maybe we CAN use this opportunity to help each other." She conceded his point.

Draco stood and pulled her up with him, taking her hands in his. "Excellent!" he smiled, in that case I have something to show you."

--

Draco led her through the house and out into the back garden, there was a large glass house at one end and he headed toward it, as the sun began to set.

"Draco where are we going?" Hermione laughed, struggling to keep up with the taller man.

"You'll see. It was a place I went to when I didn't want anyone to find me." Draco said, finally reaching the large glass doors and carefully opening one of them. "Here, go on."

"Hermione watched him as she stepped through the entrance and gasped as a butterfly landed on her nose. "Oh my!" she giggled, looking cross-eyed at the beautiful creature. "You have a butterfly house!" she giggled, raising her arms and smiling as several others landed on her fingertips.

"It was my mother's sanctuary." Draco smiled down at Hermione, happy that she liked it. "The plants and flowers you see here are the rarest in the world. They cater to only the rarest butterflies you see flying around you." He spoke with a purely factual tone, but Hermione laughed at him nonetheless, when several red and blue and green butterflies landed on his head and made him look like had a large flowery headdress on.

As they walked through the house, Hermione gasped and cooed at the tiny creatures that seemed to be drawn to her—Draco thought it was because of the sweet smell he'd noticed on her himself ever since she'd come down from her shower—Hermione seemed entranced by them. "I love this place Draco! Thank you for showing it to me."

"You're welcome. And you can consider it yours." Draco said, smiling down at her.

"Mine?" Hermione turned to look at him.

Draco smiled wider, noting the butterflies in her hair, "Yes. Yours. I'm giving it to you. My first present to you."

"Draco—I can't accept this! It was your mothers." Hermione said, looking around the glass house once again.

"Yes you can. If you don't, I'll have to get rid of it." Draco said, and watched as her face contorted into a grimace.

"You force the issue, Draco." She muttered. "It's a lovely present. Too much for me, already."

"You'll soon see that you're worth far more than even I could afford." Draco murmured to the girl before him. "I'm going to prove that to you."

Hermione blushed, but nodded.

In the next two weeks, Draco did prove to her that he cared for her."

--

They'd shared a few chaste kisses, a few special moments that made Hermione's heart flutter like she never thought it would again. She felt drawn to him in an incomprehensible way and every day it the urge to be with him grew stronger. She refused to believe that she was falling for Draco Malfoy.

'I can't.' She told herself, sinking down into her large tub. She rubbed her hands over her face and slipped beneath the water until she could no longer hold her breath. When she resurfaced, she gasped and let out a frustrated cry. "Why does he want to love me?!" Hermione wailed into the large room and heard her own anguished voice reverberate off the tiled walls.

She rested her head back against the edge of the tub, where she'd placed a towel for a pillow, and closed her eyes.

"What if Master Draco is right?" squeaked a small voice from beside the tub.

Hermione jumped a little, and opened her eyes to find a small female elf looking at her hesitantly. "I don't know… I can't let him ruin his life with me." Hermione replied, miserably.

"Master Draco does not do anything he wishes not to, missus." The elf replied, laying out a robe and a set of cotton pajamas for her when she was ready to change. "Mopsy thinks Master Draco has loved missus for a long time." The little elf admitted.

Hermione blinked at the elf, "How can you think that? I've only been here two weeks… And before, in school we were enemies…"

The elf seemed to smile kindly at Hermione, and then snapped her fingers and an old photograph appeared before her. Mopsy took it out o the air and held it before Hermione for her perusal.

The photo was worn, it had been handled many times, it seemed, as the edges were faded and there were several places where it was torn and frayed. The picture was still recognizable though, and Hermione gasped at what danced before her in on the paper. It was a picture of her and Vicktor Krum dancing at the Yule Ball in her Fourth Year. "Where did he get this?" Hermione breathed.

"I is not sure, miss." Mopsy squeaked, "But Master Draco has had it with him always since he was in school."

Hermione was stunned speechless and took the photo from the elf for a closer look. She remembered having her picture taken several times by Colin Creevy that night—for the paper she imagined—though she never imagined anyone would have received an original.

Hermione bathed quickly, and dressed in the pajamas and robe that had been laid out for her before making her way to Malfoy's room.

--

Malfoy was dressed in black sweatpants and was sitting before his fireplace reading when a knock came at his bedroom door. He knew that none of the elves knocked, he assumed it must be Hermione. "Come in." he called, setting the book down on the table beside the chair.

Hermione opened the door and padded barefooted into the room. She was holding the picture between her hands and was looking at him curiously. "Am I interrupting something?" she asked, looking around his room—realizing it was the first time she'd ever been in there.

"Not at all. What can I do for you?" Draco asked, and then noticed what she was holding. "What is that?"

"Actually—I was kind of hoping you could tell me." Hermione admitted, and then offered the picture to Draco.

He took the picture, and looked at it, immediately recognizing what it was. "Where did you get this?" he asked, looking back up at her.

"Mopsy brought it to me." She said.

"I see." Draco said, knowing that the little elf was notorious for matchmaking. "This is exactly what it looks like, Hermione." Draco admitted, handing the picture back to her.

"You got an original from Colin?" Hermione asked, "Did you threaten him or something?

"No" Draco glared at her, "I asked him for a copy of it. Gods Hermione, did you even realize how beautiful you were that night?" Draco sighed. "It was that night I realized how I felt about you, I think. Even though I hated you—even though your friends and my friends hate each other. Even though you weren't a pure blood—I loved you." Draco couldn't hide the pleading tone in his voice as he looked at Hermione.

Hermione looked down at the picture again. "You loved me before you even knew me." She murmured. When she looked back up, she had tears in her eyes.

Draco came to her and wrapped his arms about her slender frame. "I think have loved you for a long time, Hermione." He whispered, and then he kissed her, fully, for the first time.

Hermione melted into the kiss, the strange tingling was there, as it always was, but it was a wonderful, familiar sensation she enjoyed and never wanted to let go of. When she felt his tongue trace her lower lip and beg for entrance she opened her mouth and granted it gleefully, accepting his kiss and kissing him deeply in return.

Both of them were so wrapped up in the earth-shattering kiss that neither noticed the small objects that began to float off their surfaces and hover mere inches in the air. After several moments, Draco released Hermione, reluctantly, and the moment was shattered when several objects in the room crashed to the floor or dressers.

Draco and Hermione jumped and looked around the room. "What just happened?" Hermione asked, looking back at Draco's thoughtful face.

Draco's heart momentarily stopped. 'Could this be it?' he thought. Then, looking down at the girl he still held in his arms, he said, "Hermione, where is your wand?"

_**Author's Notes:**_

_**:D Chapter 5!**_

_**Not a lot to say about this chapter—it's all going to start coming together soon—on both ends of the spectrum. And don't forget about Hermione's friends and family!**_

_**Questions? Comments?**_

_**Thanks for all the reviews you guys! I really appreciate everyone's comments!**_


	6. The Power of the Past part 1

Chapter 6: The Power of the Past

_**And there's no time left for losing**_

_**When you stand they fall**_

Hermione rushed from Draco's room into her own, snatching open her underwear drawer and digging to the bottom, where she'd hid her wand. She never knew why she'd carried it with her once her powers had disappeared, but it always made her feel safe—she hoped that maybe, if she ever found herself in a dire situation, her powers might come back to her in the nick of time.

Now, in the oddest of ways, something magical had happened to her. She was falling in love with Draco Malfoy and objects were floating around the room like she was nine again.

Running back into his room, she gasped for air and brandished the wand as if it were a sword. "What do I do?" She asked, looking at Draco for direction.

Malfoy almost burst out laughing. The smartest witch of their generation just asked HIM what she should do in regards to magic. He smiled and took her wand hand in his own. "Since you seem to be good at levitating things…why don't you try wingardium leviosa?"

He began to move her hand in the swish and flick motion, but she shrugged him off with an annoyed motion. "I know how to do the handwork, Draco." She grumbled, and looked around for a simple, unbreakable object. She found it in a nearby book.

Walking over to the table that sat next to the fireplace, she took her stance and focused, "Wingardium Leviosa!" she cried, and the book vibrated, jerked, and flew across the room at Draco.

Draco reached out a hand, with his seeker's reflexes and caught the flying literature before it could impale him in the forehead and smiled. "Well, I'd say that's an improvement, yes?" he smiled at her, though he knew she was frustrated.

"Give that back. Let me try again."

He did so.

The second time, the thing exploded. Shrapnel and confetti went everywhere, and Hermione cried out and flopped down dejectedly in the chair. "This isn't working out at ALL!"

Draco bit his cheek hard enough to draw blood to keep from smiling at her. "Hermione, it's been over a year since you practiced magic. It will take you a while to get used to it again. We'll just have to find you…something a little more durable to work with." He took her hands in his own, and led her from his room.

Down stairs, in the kitchen, Draco laid a metal spoon on the counter. "There. Try moving that."

Hermione whispered the spell, hoping that if she said it softly, nothing serious would happen. The spoon melted. "Why is it doing that!?" Hermione looked at her wand as if she'd never seen one before. "I've never melted anything in my LIFE! And I could do magic before I even WENT to Hogwarts!"

"Calm down. I have other spoons. Several sets, in fact. I won't miss a few." Draco said, banishing the liquid metal mess, and setting another spoon in its place. "Try again."

Hermione whimpered, but did as she was told. This time, the spoon did levitate, tough it stuck, scoop first, into the ceiling.

"See! You're already getting better!" Draco said, setting another spoon before her. Hermione sighed, set a determined look on her face and tried again.

--

For the next several hours, Hermione and Draco made their way from one utensil to the next, testing Hermione's abilities. They switched from the levitating charm when Hermione sent a ladle flying through the kitchen window—on its own pair of wings—and instead focused on transfiguration, banishing, and summoning charms. Hermione's skills were dodgy—it was clear that sometimes they worked, and sometimes she just couldn't seem to get anything right. It was nearly dawn when they finally called a halt to the experimentation.

"I think that's enough for now." Draco yawned. "We've turned the kitchen into a battle zone."

Hermione cringed. "I'm sorry. I'll clean it up tomorrow." She said, looking at her toes.

"Don't worry about it. I'll clean it up. It won't take long—and it's all in the name of getting your powers back. I'd kill a thousand kitchens if that's what it takes." Draco said, wrapping his arms around her.

Hermione sniffed, and snuggled down into his embrace. "Thank you Draco. For everything." She murmured.

Draco didn't reply, only took her hand and led them back up to his room, where he laid them on his bed and curled himself around her, holding on to her tightly as they fell into a sound sleep.

--

It was mid-afternoon when Draco woke. He was alone in his room and he sat up abruptly, wondering where Hermione had gotten to. Mopsy was cleaning the mess of book-shreddings up, and Draco asked her if she'd seen the curly haired girl.

"Missus Hermy is down in the Great Room, Master Draco, she said something about searching…" Mopsy blinked her big green eyes up at him.

Draco nodded, dressed, and made his way back down to the first floor. There he found Hermione, surrounded with piles of parchment and books. She had dressed for the day, much as he had, in jeans and a t-shirt, an there was a half-eaten tray of sandwiches and cookies and a bottle of water sitting on the coffee table and it was clear she'd been there a while.

"How long have you been awake?" Draco asked, coming around to face her.

Hermione didn't look up from her reading, "Since about lunch time. I was hungry. And I had to come here and do some studying."

"Studying? You mean research?" Draco asked, taking a sandwich from the tray and munching on it.

"Yes. I have a hunch that there's more to this emotional bond thing than there seems. That's why my powers are so wonky right now." She said, finally meeting his eyes. "I've been reading, and I just don't understand. It sounds like while my relationship with you has reignighted the spark, I have to get a grip on my life for the rest of it to fall into place—but I have a grip on my life."

Draco raised his eyebrows at her.

"Well, I'm with you now, aren't I?" Hermione questioned.

"Yes."

"I'm not alone and miserable anymore. I'm not doing anything to hurt myself anymore—what am I missing?" Hermione asked, flipping back a few pages to reread a passage or two over again.

Draco sat down on one of the couches and pondered what Hermione had said. He thought, perhaps, if there was any validity to this, he might know just the remedy she needed.

--

More practice took them outside about an hour before dinnertime that evening. Draco had fished out a small blue and silver ball from one of his old play rooms and had ordered Hermione to practice.

Her magic was improving, albeit slowly. Levitation was less scary than it had been, and she did manage to keep the thing in one piece. Banishment, though, still needed a lot of work. The first time she tried, she turned the ball inside out. The second time, it simply disappeared.

"You're no fun to play catch with, right now, you know that?" Draco chuckled at her, and accioed an old set of Quittich balls from his equipment shed.

"You think I TRY to be this bad!?" Hermione cried, her hands on her hips and her hair blowing freely around her face in the chilly winter air.

"I never said you were trying—" Draco said, picking up the quaffle from the chest of balls, and tossing it to her. "Try sending that to me."

Hermione did so, and this time, succeeded.

"Great! Now take it from me!"

Success again.

"Brilliant!" Draco called and jumped a little with glee. "Come on, let's go inside for dinner and we'll do something else afterwards." Draco suggested, and Hermione nodded, sticking her wand in her back pocket and trudging back toward the house.

--

After dinner, Hermione suggested they go back up to the West Wing of the house. Draco was surprised at this—thinking surely she wanted to focus on her own dilemma—but agreed as not to upset her.

They chose a different hallway this time; Draco allowed Hermione to pick from a number of French doors, and they entered into a large, dark, marble-floored ballroom. With a flick of his wand, Draco brought light into the room, and though several large pieces of art and furniture were covered in white cloths, Hermione gasped at the brilliance that surrounded her.

"Oh Draco!" Hermione gasped, taking a tentative step forward and looking up at the large, crystal chandelier that hung in the center of the domed ceiling.

"Did I forget to mention we had one of these?" Draco chuckled, looking about the place himself. It had been a long while since he'd been in the room. His sixteenth birthday, to be exact.

"Yes. You did. What else does this Manor have that I don't know about?" Hermione asked, looking at him quizzically.

"Trust me, you might not want to know the answer to that. Not every room in this house is as beautiful as this one." Draco said, his smile falling.

Is there a…yes—a piano." Hermione murmured to herself and walked across the floor to where a large square-ish object sat under a white sheet. Reaching forward, Hermione ripped the sheet away to reveal a baby grand piano. "Beautiful." She whispered, tracing her fingers along the ebony and ivory of the keys.

"You like music?" Draco asked; he had followed her across the room.

"I always wanted to learn to play the piano. But I never got the chance before I went to Hogwarts." Hermione said, looking over the smooth curves of the organ's edges.

Draco smiled softly and took a seat at the bench. "Here, sit." He said. She did, looking at him. "Place your right hand here—" he moved her right hand to the upper register of the piano's keys and splayed her fingers out appropriately. "And put your left one…here." He said, placing her left hand mid-keyboard. Placing her fingers on the keys there as well. He put his hands over hears, his fingers tracing her own. Slowly, he began to press on her fingers, so that he was playing a slow, repeating melody.

Hermione gasped, and then giggled. "Oh wonderful!" She said as she watched their hands move together. "I didn't know you could play!"

Draco just smiled at her, told her to keep the finger movements up, and then removed his hands from hers she was playing by herself. He watched her for a moment; she was like a child discovering how to walk for the very first time; he absolutely loved being able to give her something like this. And he wanted to give her so much more. Slowly, he moved his own hands to the keyboard further down the register and began to play a counter-melody. The music surprised her at first and she stopped what she was doing, but with his encouragement, she continued, and they played for a while. He taught her his part, and they alternated. He taught her a few other songs as well and he marveled at how fast she learned.

Draco had never gotten much joy from playing the piano. His mother had forced him to learn before he began school at Hogwarts. She insisted it was part of being a refined gentleman. Draco grumbled that his father hadn't had to learn, but ultimately it was a fight he'd lost and he'd turned out to be quite the prodigy. He hadn't played in years, but, now, with Hermione sitting beside him, grinning like a small child having just discovered the world around her, he could have played all night long.

--

It was nearing four in the morning. Hermione was draped across Draco's bed dressed in her cotton pajamas once again sound asleep. Draco sat across the room and watched her intently.

His mind was working on a problem he couldn't quite explain, but he knew it had to do with Hermione's Past. He chewed absentmindedly on the skin beside this thumb as he watched her.

'I sparked the reemergence of her powers. What will help her gain control over them?' The question rolled around in his brain like a boulder. Smashing up against ideas—but none of them seemed to want to stick. 'What can I do to help her when I've already done what is required of me?' He pulled his thumb from his mouth, examined it, and then stuck it back again. 'Her past. Her past. Her….Potter.' The thought was like a bullet in his brain. It hit him so hard and so fast he stood straight up from his chair before he knew even what he planned to do about it.

Sitting down again, he ran options over in his head. She didn't want to contact the people in her past. She'd let them all believe she was dead if it was up to her. But that wasn't going to get her her magic back. Draco knew the answer, and he knew Hermione wasn't going to like it. He also knew that Potter didn't know about him and probably still hated him. That posed a problem.

Standing from the chair again, Draco marched with purpose from his room, carefully shutting the door behind him, and then bolted down the stairs to the study. There he rummaged around in his father's old desk until he found some parchment without the Malfoy crest on it, and a pen that still had ink in it and scribbled out a note to Harry Potter. He called for his Eagle Owl, but when he saw her fly through the window, decided against using her—she was far too recognizable. He called Mopsy instead.

"Can you deliver this to Harry Potter's residence? And don't tell him whom it's from. Do you understand?" He informed the elf, and she nodded and with a small pop, she was gone.

Draco sat down in the high-backed leather chair and brooded. Either Potter would be curious enough to meet him and patient enough not to hex him long enough to hear him out—or he'd have to track him down and drag him back to the Manor personally.

He was still in the study when Hermione woke around breakfast time that morning.

--

"This is for Mister Harry Potter, Ma'am." Mopsy said, looking up at a very pregnant Ginny Potter.

"I'm his wife, I'll give it to him." Ginny said, stepping forward to retrieve the note. Mopsy took a step back.

"I was told to gives it to him mah'self, ma'am." Mopsy said, holding the folded parchment to her bosom.

Ginny groaned and yelled down the hallway for her husband. He came grumbling from the bedroom, scratching his head. He only had one eye open and didn't look to be in a very good mood.

"What is it Gin? It's early." Harry muttered, and then noticed the elf. "Who's that?"

"I don't know." Ginny replied. "She has something for you." Ginny stalked off back into the kitchen.

Harry turned to the elf in his entry hall and raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you?"

"I was told to deliver this to Mister Harry Potter, sir." Mopsy said, holding out the parchment.

Harry took it, and before he could ask whom it was from, Mopsy disappeared. "That was strange." He muttered, unfolding the letter, and reading the neat scrawl inside. "Oh my god." He gasped. Harry turned pale, and dropped the letter where he stood in the entry hall and bolted back towards his and Ginny's bedroom.

"What was that all about?" Ginny called, walking back into the entry hall, she saw the open letter lying on the floor, but her husband was no where in sight. "Harry?" Grunting she stooped down and picked up the letter.

_**Potter:**_

_**Hermione is alive. Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at Ten A.M. Leave the past behind you.**_

Harry trotted down the hallway again, fumbling with his shirt and pants. He'd managed to get his pants on, but had failed to button them. And his shirt was on inside out. "I gotta go." He told Ginny, as he passed her.

"Not like that you're not!" She cried, and waved her wand at him, his clothes righted themselves and he called his thanks as he slammed the front door.

"Lord I wonder who this is from?" Ginny replied. "If it weren't for this little one, I'd be right there with you, Harry." She murmured, holding the parchment to her chest. The fluttering of her heart couldn't' be ignored, and she raced back into the kitchen to floo to her mother's.

--

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, looking up from a book she'd brought with her to the table.

Draco looked up nervously from the shirt he was buttoning. "I have to go in to work for a while. Seems they've managed to royally muck things up in my absence. I have to go fill out some paperwork and sign a few things. I hope to be back before long. He hoped his lie was convincing—he used to be good at lying. But with her, it was entirely different. "I was thinking, since you're on your way to getting our powers back, we can start working on remodeling the West Wing whenever you're ready. I never could have done it alone—but, with our help, I'm sure it'll feel brand new." Draco smiled at her.

Hermione smiled brightly. "I've been thinking about that all morning! I'd love to start with the second floor! We could turn those rooms into rooms for the elves. I know they sleep in the kitchens—and I know they'll probably scoff at the idea—but you have the room, and…" Draco kissed her into silence

"That sounds wonderful. If you can talk them into it—feel free." He smiled at her. I'll be back soon. And with that he apparated away.

--

Harry paced back and forth outside the Leaky Cauldron impatiently. It was five till ten and he was anxious to meet the person who'd sent him the letter. He'd spent five months searching for Hermione. Three of them, right after Ron and she divorced, and two after the Muggle police department had claimed she was dead. He'd kept in contact with her parents hoping maybe they would hear from her, but there was no such luck. He had suffered the loss of one of his best friends and he hadn't been able to do anything about it. The guilt gnawed his stomach still and he grew nervous as the minutes ticked by.

Draco watched Potter pace from across the street and debated his approach. He knew that Harry cared deeply for Hermione—knew that he'd spend a lot of time and energy—money too, probably, trying to find her once she'd gone missing—and he felt sorry for the way things ended up. Taking a deep breath, Draco stepped across the street and approached the raven-haired man.

"Potter." Draco greeted Harry cautiously. He stood in front of him so his meaning could not be misunderstood.

"You?" Harry spat, "Is this some kind of joke?"

"There's no time for jokes, I'm afraid." Draco said, his tone even. "Hermione needs your help." Without waiting for a reply, Draco stepped though the doors and found a small, secluded booth at the back.

Harry had no choice but to follow.

"You called her Hermione."

"That's her name, isn't it?" Draco asked.

"Since when do you call her anything but…" Harry hesitated to say the word they both were thinking.

"Potter I haven't used that word since before my graduation from Hogwarts. There is a lot you don't know about me. And I suggest you do as I asked and forget the past. I'm not here to discuss our old rivalry with you." Draco's eyes narrowed at the man seated across from him. He motioned to Tom for a bottle of Ogden's Finest, and when the bartender brought the whiskey, they both took a glass and downed it.

"So you've seen her alive? When."

"Just this morning, in fact." Draco said, he twisted the glass around in his hands.

"Where was she?"

"In my kitchen."

"You're lying."

"You'd be surprised, actually, what I choose to tell the truth about these days." Draco answered, taking another sip of his firewhiskey.

"Why would she be in your kitchen?"

"She's been staying with me for nearly a month now." Draco replied, looking Harry directly in the eye. "Do you want to know how I found her?"

--

Draco told him the story of how he'd run into a girl who looked like Hermione one day coming from a Muggle coffee shop. He described the way she looked to Harry and he noticed the way Potter's face fell. Then, he told him how he found her three days later.

"She was selling herself. For money to eat on." Draco ground out. It wasn't pleasant for him to talk about. He didn't like to remember Hermione that way.

"Impossible. She would never do that." Potter muttered. But his tone told Draco that he believed his story.

"Potter, she faked her own death and hasn't yet told her parents or you that she's still alive. She doesn't see anything wrong with that. But—there's something else." Draco lowered his eyes to the table.

"What?" Harry pleaded.

"Her magic." Draco said. "When she ran away—she had no ability to use magic."

Harry seemed to consider this. "That's why she ran to the Muggle World." He murmured to himself.

"That's my guess." Draco confirmed. "In the past weeks she's been at my house, we've been researching ways to get her magic back." This was the hard part. Draco had to tell Harry about his developing feelings for his best friend.

"Have you found anything? Is there anything I can do?"

"Potter, as you know, our magic is tied to our emotions. So when Ron and She severed their bond, she was so emotionally distraught by the act she severed herself from her powers in the process. In the books we've read, there have been rumors passed back and forth about ways to cure this ailment. We think we've found one that works." Draco was trying to make Harry understand.

Harry listened intently—wanting to help his friend if he could.

"You won't believe this. I don't expect you to. But if you draw your wand on me, I will be forced to return the favor." Draco warned. He leveled his gaze on Harry, whose eyes narrowed. "I've fallen I love with Hermione." Draco admitted. When Harry didn't say anything, he continued, "I think she feels the same way."

Harry sat silent for a moment with a sour look on his face. "Now I know you're lying." He retorted, finishing his glass and pouring himself a new one.

"She's regained the ability to use her wand, Potter. She has to have fallen in love in order for that to happen." Draco ground out.

Harry starred at Draco for a while, contemplating all the information that had passed between them. Then, after finishing his second glass of firewhiskey, he took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's say that I do believe you. What do you want from me? Why did you contact me?"

"Hermione needs your help. I already told you that." Draco said flatly.

"Why. You said she has her magic back."

Draco pulled a mutated wad of metal from his pocket. "This was a spoon. She tried to leviosa it. Instead it melted into my kitchen counter." Draco said, letting the thing clatter onto the heavy wooden table.

Harry stared at the thing for a moment and then looked back at the blond man across from him. "What does that have to do with me?"

"I am not enough." Draco said simply. "I reignited the flame of magic, but she must make peace with her past in order to regain control over it."

Harry nodded slowly. "When can I see her?"

"She's not expecting you, you know that." Draco said, laying coins on the table in order to cover the bottle of whiskey they'd shared.

"I know." Harry relied. "I asked when."

"Let's go."

--

Hermione had a menagerie of elves helping her magic her way through the rooms on the second floor of the West Wing. She had at last convinced most of them to accept the rooms, provided they weren't fancy, and on the condition that only she and Master Draco—besides the elves themselves, of course—had access to it.

She'd secured several rooms already, cleaning out all the old furniture, replacing light fixtures, and adding elf-sized things she thought they would need. She was so caught up in her work that she didn't hear the pops that reverberated in the Entry Hall.

Draco heard the rumbling noises coming from the West Wing and grinned to himself. Hermione was in full SPEW mode, of course, and had persuaded the elves that they had a right to a room of their own. He led Harry into his father's study, and told him to wait there, "I'll bring her down." He said.

Harry sat down in a chair by the fire, then immediately stood again and began to pace. He was nervous and excited and he didn't know what to expect. Finally, in order to calm his nerves, he began to focus on the books that lined the shelves.

--

Draco found Hermione just where he thought he would and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "You've been busy!" He grinned into her hair.

Hermione smiled. "You knew I would get them to cooperate!" she said, and turned to kiss him. "Have you been drinking?"

"I had a glass, yes, before I came back—is that ok?" Draco swallowed nervously.

"I suppose so." Hermione murmured, looking around at her handiwork. "This will be done in a few days—the elves are really handy with magic—and I know they don't need a lot, but when I get my powers back for good, I'll really fix it up for them."

"I have no doubt, love." Draco said, smiling. "Come with me. There's something I think you need to see." He said, taking her hand and leading her down the stairs and to his father's study.

He pushed open the door and Harry turned immediately to face him from across the room. Draco stepped aside, and Hermione and Harry's eyes locked for the first time in over a year.

"'Mione..."

"Harry?"

Harry crossed the room in three great strides and scooped up the brown haired girl in his arms and hugged her tight, tears flowing down his face.

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Chapter 6!**_

_**This'll be drawing to an end soon, folks. Just to let you know. A lot will be happening in the next few chapters :D**_

_**Thanks for sticking with me so far—I'm truly humbled by all of your wonderful reviews…**_


	7. The Power of the Past part 2

Chapter 7: The Power of the Past part 2

_**And there's no time left for losing**_

_**When you stand they fall**_

Hermione was too shocked to speak and when Harry sat her down again she pushed him away with a look of fear and confusion on her face. "What are you doing here?" she asked, looking from Harry to Draco and back again. "Did you bring him—you didn't go to work—you went to HIM!" Hermione cried pointing at Harry. Her face contorted into a mask of misery, hurt, rage and irrepressible sadness and she crumpled against the couch that helpfully sat behind her. "You've ruined everything, Draco!" she sobbed.

Neither of the men moved for a moment. Harry stood confused before his best friend, and Draco stood conflicted. Finally, before Harry could react, Draco was kneeling before the curly-haired girl. "You must understand why I did this." He murmured into her hair. "Hermione I would never hurt you—you have to know that—I never wanted you to have to face anything that you weren't ready for—but you have to do this for yourself. You have to do this to get your magic back. You understand that don't you?"

Harry was mildly shocked—though Draco had told him of his feelings for his friend, it was quite different to see the affection so blatantly displayed before him. It was almost like someone trying to hug the Whomping Willow.

Hermione sniffed and hiccupped but calmed down beneath Draco's soothing caresses. Harry had chosen a seat across the room in a high-backed leather chair in order to give her space and because it was a prime seat to watch the goings on between the two. "How will I explain everything?" Hermione murmured to Draco, looking up at him with watery chocolate eyes. "I had everything so perfectly planned—and now this."

"You can't think that they would have been fooled for the rest of our lives, Hermione." Draco murmured back to her.

"I was content for now." Hermione whimpered.

"You weren't happy. Not truly happy." Draco told her, and looked in her eyes where the confirmation of the truth was clearly visible. "Please let Harry help you. If my hunch is right, this could be exactly what you need in order to gain your powers again." Draco said softly. "I promise I'll be with you the entire time. I won't ever leave your side."

Hermione hesitated, considering. She looked down at the wand that was resting loosely in her hand in her lap. "Okay. I'll try." She whispered.

Draco smiled and kissed her forehead. "Good, now its time to reacquaint you with your past." Draco said, and turned to Harry, who was watching the two intently. Draco motioned him forward and he stood slowly and walked across the room. He sat beside Hermione and looked down at his hands, waiting for her to speak first.

"Hi." Hermione said tentatively.

"Hey." Harry said rather lamely.

Draco took a seat in front of them on the squatty coffee table and took Hermione's hand in his own as silent encouragement.

"I guess you want to know where I've been, huh?" Hermione asked, looking sideways at Harry, who smiled a little and nodded.

"That would be nice. Draco told me a bit—but I would like to hear your rendition." He said.

Hermione nodded, took a deep breath and began to recount memories she'd spent the better part of a year trying to forget.

--

Several hours passed since Harry had arrived at Malfoy Manor. Draco had arrived with Harry just after Lunchtime and it was now well after dinner.

The three had taken a simple dinner in the study provided by the elves. Hermione had told Harry everything, even things she'd neglected to tell Draco. She'd begun from the day she finalized her divorce from Ron and talked until she reached the day when she ran into Draco on the streets of Muggle Britain.

Draco had filled in parts from there on out—the butterfly house, the adventures in the West Wing, and their adventures in her rediscovery of magic. Harry found himself journeying through several different emotions as the night wore on. He was overwhelmed with sadness, disgust, self-loathing, happiness, excitement, dread, and, a bit shockingly, love. It was a strange feeling, but, once Hermione had let her defenses down, it was like a wall had been demolished between them, and he could feel her magic flowing out of her and into him.

Harry had told Hermione about Ginny and the baby—about how he'd fixed up his parents' house and how they were living in Godric's Hollow now, he told them that All of the Weasley's were married off to someone or other—even the twins to their Hogwarts School sweethearts (Angelina and Alicia)—though he didn't mention Ron directly, Hermione felt that Ron had indeed married Lavender. Hermione found, as she held Draco's hand, she cared less and less about whom Ron was with. By the end of the night, she found she was able to even be a little bit happy at the thought maybe Ron was finally happy with his chosen life. She found herself slowly able to let go of her past, and the feeling was more freeing that she would have thought possible.

Draco sensed on some deeper level that Hermione and Harry were exchanging more than just words, whether or not they realized it—and at one point, he picked up a book that lay beside him on the coffee table and began to flip through it. He found the passage he'd read to Hermione about her needing to find someone to connect emotionally with and then read forwards from where he'd left off:

'The affected may experience jolts of magical energy, bursts of magical energy which discharges on objects around him or her, and brief, empathic sensations between the affected and a chosen partner.' Draco thought this over, folding the corner of the page down and closing the book. He noticed that Hermione was watching him curiously, and he shook his head as if to tell her he would explain later, and she turned back to Harry.

The three talked until the moon was high in the sky and it was early morning before Harry stood and mentioned that Ginny would probably kill him if he didn't get home before dawn. Hermione hugged him and told him to come back—and to bring his wife, which he agreed to heartily. He shook Draco's hand, having found a new respect for the Blond ex-Slytherin, though he did not completely trust him, he had to have some respect for him for taking Hermione in and taking care of her for so long.

"If you wouldn't mind, Potter, since tomorrow's Sunday, would you floo back here so we could do a little experimenting with Hermione's magic, now that you and her have been reacquainted?" Draco held onto Harry's hand and waited for his answer.

"Sure. I'll be by in the afternoon." Harry nodded, and then apparated away.

--

That night, as Hermione walked into Draco's room from the one she now neglected to sleep in, she discarded her robe to reveal yellow cotton shorts and a white cotton tank top. As she crawled into what was quickly becoming her side of the bed, she looked over to Draco, who sat beside the fire, reading, "what did you look up tonight?"

Draco looked up at her. He'd already undressed, and was wearing a white cotton t-shirt and black cotton pants. "You remember when I first read that passage to you about how you needed to connect with another person to gain your powers back?" he asked her.

"Yes." Hermione asked, she slid her legs under the covers, but remained sitting up against the headboard.

"I looked up that passage again, and continued reading where I left off." Draco explained. "It went on to describe some of your symptoms. Actually, it described almost exactly what you've been going through. But it seems that rather than one person, you need a few. It also mentioned that you'd probably develop an empathic link between the person who will help you gain your powers back and yourself. You and Harry experienced that tonight, I noticed." Draco sighed and closed his book and set it down.

"That's what that was." Hermione murmured, her looked lost in thought. "It felt strange. Sort of like what I feel whenever you and I kiss—but not as strong." Hermione shivered and watched as Draco stood from his seat.

"As I said—it seems you must make a connection between a past…and whatever I am." His face fell a bit, whether in thought or uncertainty Hermione couldn't tell.

"My future." she whispered loud enough for him to hear.

"I think…" he came to sit on the bed beside her, "I think we should tell your parents, too."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, Draco, no! I couldn't bear to retell everything all over again! And what would they say—knowing that their only daughter had turned prostitute to keep herself alive! They would rather I be dead!" she put her face in her hands.

Draco took her hands in his and kissed them. "Hermione, they are your parents. And I don't know much about parents, as these things go, but I think they'll be happier to know that you're alive and well than thinking that their only daughter is dead and missing. I have a hunch that they love you very much. You can't keep people who love your out of your life, Hermione. It won't help you." Draco's voice was rational and soothing.

Hermione nodded. "Maybe we could invite them over for dinner or something."

Draco smirked at her.

"You've already done that haven't you?"

He nodded. "That's partially why I asked Harry back tomorrow. We'll be having a late lunch on the grounds. I sent King off with the letter this morning, after Mopsy left with the letter to Harry." Draco explained.

"So you told them already?"

"Not exactly. I told them that there was someone who knew Hermione that wanted to meet them. And that Harry and Ginny would be there as well." Draco smiled his Slytherin smile.

"I guess that sneaky Slytherin side of you never really leaves, does it?"

"Never." Draco grinned and kissed her fully on her mouth.

--

Draco and Hermione had fallen into a routine of falling asleep wrapped up in the other's embrace. Hermione was surprised that Draco never pressured her for anything more than kissing and she never felt uncomfortable sharing a bed with him. With ever passing night, Hermione felt herself more and more ready to take that step with Draco—it had been more than a month since she'd first come to stay at the Manor with him, and though she had never tested the waters, she knew that he would wait as long as she needed him to.

Draco, notorious Slytherin Sex God that he was, was surprised to find that he was perfectly content just being in the same room with Hermione. He found himself wanting to do things for her that he had never considered doing for other women. The idea of sex wasn't appealing unless he knew she was ready for it. He hadn't pushed for anything more than moderate snogging sessions, and he fond that Hermione willingly complied. He made up his mind early though, that when it came to what was important, he would let Hermione make the decisions.

--

The next day was Sunday. Hermione and Draco woke at the same time to the soft knock on the door. "Mopsy's way of waking us up." Draco said. "She's discreet—she knows me too well." He sort of laughed at himself.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione grumbled, and snuggled against his chest for warmth.

"When I was alone in the house, I used to sleep in the nude." Draco grinned when he felt her body stiffen against his.

"Oh." She replied and he chuckled.

"We probably need to get up if we're going to be ready by the time our company gets here." Draco responded, though he made no effort to move.

"Yeah." Hermione replied, though she stayed where she was as well. Several more moments passed in this fashion, before Draco resorted to tickling Hermione out of the bed.

--

That afternoon, sunroom was set up for a small group of people, and the elves had prepared grilled chicken and rack of lamb along with seasoned potatoes and other vegetables. There was mince pie and rolls and large bottles of wine… there was enough food for the entire Gryffindor House sitting on the table when Ginny and Harry arrived.

Hermione was in the Great Room when she heard voices in the Entry Hall. Draco had left a little while before to escort the Grangers via floo to the Manor, and Mopsy and a few other elves were playing butler and greeting their guests. Hermione wandered into the hallway to see Harry and his wife and smiled. "Hi Harry, Ginny." She said, looking a bit sheepishly at Ginny.

The redheaded girl, despite the fact that she was pregnant, almost leapt on Hermione engulfing her in an enormous hug. "Hermione! Harry told me everything last night! Oh I missed you! Are you all right? How is Malfoy treating you?" Ginny launched several more questions at Hermione and the girls both cried as they clung to each other.

"Look at you! Pregnant! Do you know what you're having?"

Harry stood back and smiled with mirth—women would never change.

--

Shortly after the Potters arrived, Hermione had them all seated in the Great Room where she knew Draco would arrive with her parents. She was secretly nervous, but she tried to hide it with conversation. Ginny did well keeping her talking about all the stuff she'd missed in the past year. Fred and George had been married at the same time—and as usual—had pulled a prank that nearly cost them both their brides. Fleur had a little girl. Mr. Weasley got a promotion at work and the family was no longer struggling to make ends meet…

Harry sensed Hermione's nerves and moved to sit beside her on the couch. They were discussing names for the baby when the fireplace came to life and Draco stepped through followed by Hermione's parents.

Hermione stood from her place on the couch, feeling a little light-headed. Harry stood beside her, holding on to her arm, whether for support or to keep from falling over from his own empathic light-headedness was unknown. "Hi mum, dad." She said. But she couldn't quite make herself smile at them.

Hermione's mum burst into tears and leaned against Draco, unable to hold herself. Draco thanked his seeker's reflexes as he caught the woman and walked her carefully to a chair and sat her down. Hermione's dad stood where he was, looking on disbelievingly.

"It's really me, dad." Hermione said, looking from her mum to him and back again. "I'm alright." She took a few steps toward her parents, and then ran into her father's arms.

Mr. Granger scooped his daughter up as if she were five and had just come running at him from a pile of presents on Christmas morning. "'Mione-child!" he cried into her hair, holding her tight before sitting her down and letting her walk to where her mother was.

Hermione hugged her mum and explained, albeit without the gory details what had happened with Ron and how she lost her magic. She told them about Draco finding her when she had nowhere else to go and taking her in. She also told them that it was Draco who was working so hard to help her get her powers back."

Mr. Granger kissed his daughter's hair and then turned to Draco, "Thank you, son, you have no idea what this means to us. We were devastated when we learned that she was missing."

Draco only nodded his head and then suggested that they all adjourn to the sunroom for lunch.

--

Over lunch, many things were worked out—Hermione explained why she'd chosen no to keep in touch with her family—and though they did not completely understand her logic, they understood that she was not in her right mind when she fled the world she knew. Draco and Hermione explained that they used to e enemies, and had forged a friendship—indeed a relationship over the past weeks they'd known one another. Hermione explained that it was Draco that had brought her magic back, though it didn't work very well, and it was Draco who had brought Harry to her, despite her vow never to speak to anyone from her old life again.

Draco explained that Hermione was helping him fix up parts of his home that he didn't have the courage to enter himself. He explained his past to Harry and Ginny as well as Hermione's parents, and told them in great detail about the goings on in the Manor during the war. He hoped this honesty would help the Potters to trust him, and help the Grangers to see that he was genuinely trying to help his daughter—and that he needed her just as much as she needed him.

When the meal was over, Draco asked Hermione if she was ready for another go at her magic. She hesitated, but nodded.

"Harry, this is where you come in. I think now that she's around her parents and you and Ginny she should have more control over her powers, but, to be safe, we'll start simple—the simplest of spells can be…interesting…when her powers don't work right." Draco said and looked at Hermione in silent apology.

"We got the ladle back, Draco!" Hermione stamped her foot and put her hands on her hips.

"Yes, love, but that book is still in four thousand pieces." Draco replied lovingly. The Grangers, Harry and Ginny raised their eyebrows in curious interest but said nothing that might incur the wrath of Hermione.

Harry, Draco and Hermione formed a triangle and placed a quaffle between them. "Ok Hermione, levitate that." Draco said, holding his wand at attention just in case.

Hermione said the spell and after quivering a moment, the ball rose into the air a few feet.

"Hah! Well done Hermione!" Ginny cried from the sidelines.

"Good on you Hermione!" Harry called, "Can you send it to me?"

She banished it from her in Harry's direction, and though it went a little harder than she'd intended, it made it to the raven-haired boy, nonetheless.   
"I'm getting the hang of this!" Hermione smiled, feeling the magic in her whirring just beneath the surface. It was a familiar feeling.

"Take it back from him Hermione." Draco said.

"Accio Quaffle!" she called, and pointed her wand at Harry. The quaffle disappeared, and so did Harry's shirt. "Oh no! Why isn't it working!"

"It's alright, 'Mione, I didn't really like that shirt anyway." Harry laughed looking down at the undershirt he wore.

Draco changed tactics. "Conjure something." He told her, determined not to let her give up.

"Like what?"

"Something soft." Mr. Granger suggested and then shrugged his shoulders when his daughter glared at him.

"A Teddy Bear is a good idea." Harry interrupted, its simple.

Hermione nodded and focused, before flicking her wand. Rather than the stuffed animal, a very real floppy-eared rabbit appeared before them.

"Awww! Well its soft and fuzzy! She gets points for that at least! Ginny squealed. Harry rolled his eyes.

"This is hopeless…" Hermione whined. "I'm never going to get my powers back!"

"Nonsense!" Harry said shaking his head. "It just is gonna take a little more practice."

"A lot more, you mean." Hermione huffed picking the bunny up and setting in a cage Draco had conjured for it.

"Hermione, we'll figure it out, I promise." Draco said, for now, maybe we should just call it a day?"

The Grangers and Ginny agreed. They all shared a celebratory toast in honor of Hermione being alive and well and back in their lives again, and then the Grangers flooed home while the Potters apparated.

--

"Today wasn't a complete disaster." Draco said, as he found a comfortable spot on the couch in the Great Room.

"It could have been better." Hermione grumbled.

"You mean your magic." Draco said, patting the seat next to him, and when she sat, he drew her into his lap. "We'll work on it Hermione. It'll all work out. You can't tell me that it doesn't feel good to have your parents and Harry and Ginny back in your life?"

"No…it does. I have missed them terribly—I just expected so much more…" Hermione sniffled and curled into Draco's chest. "I thought it would all come back."

"Maybe that means you've still left something unresolved." Draco rationalized, running his fingers up and down her arms.

"I don't know what." Hermione grumbled.

"No?" Draco asked, "I can think of one thing."

"No. No. Draco a thousand times no." Hermione said, sitting up abruptly and shaking her head side to side. "I will not go and see Ronald. He will not come here. I don't want to see him."

"Do you really still have feelings for him?" Draco frowned a bit as he asked the question.

Hermione thought the question over, and, as she'd discovered, the answer was no. "Of course not. It's not whether or not I still care for him, Draco. He's the reason my powers went away in the first place!"

"Exactly." Draco pointed out, kissing her cheek gently. "The final step."

"I can't. I'm not ready." Hermione whimpered.

"Then let us sleep on it, Hermione, and we shall decide later." Draco said, scooping her up in his arms, and carrying her up to their room to sleep away the day's worries.

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Chapter 7! (I repeated the lyrics in this chappy because it's a "part 2")**_

_**That's right! Ronald's about to re-enter the picture!! Also, the M-rated scene we've all been waiting for. Stay tuned!**_


	8. Reunion of the Exes

Chapter 8: Reunion of the Exes

_**Comin' down the world turned over**_

_**And angels fall without you there**_

_**And I go on as you get colder**_

_**All because I'm**_

"I'm not going, Harry. And that's final." Hermione said, crossing her arms and staring at the raven-haired man sitting in her living room.

"Hermione, that woman used to be like a second mother to you—you can't just NOT go. She'll be devastated." Harry pleaded with his stubborn best friend.

"Molly will just have to understand—I can't go to the Weasley's house—You-Know-Who will be there, and I definitely don't want to see him!" Hermione yelled.

"Actually—I thought we destroyed Voldemort about four years ago… If he's there then we have bigger problems than you not wanting to see Ron." Harry smirked at her. "You know you have to do this to get your magic back in sync. We've been practicing for over two weeks—and your progress is marginal at best."

"You don't have to get smart with me Harry Potter. And I know just how I've been doing! Don't you think I'm frustrated enough without you constantly reminding me?!"

"All I'm saying is that these people love you and were so happy when they found out were still live it would crush them to know you don't want to see them." Harry sighed.

Hermione whined, frustrated at Harry's persuasiveness, frustrated that he was right, and he knew even before the argument began that he'd get her to come along if he pressed the issue long enough. "Fine. But at the first sign of trouble, that's it. I'm gone. Do you understand me?"

"Yes ma'am." Harry saluted her, and apparated back to his own Manor where Ginny had an afternoon snack awaiting him.

--

Draco was listening to the argument from his seat on the Grand Staircase. When he was sure that Harry had gone, he made his way down to join Hermione. "So he talked you into it I hear." Draco said, walking to her and putting his hands in his pockets.

Hermione was pacing by the window. Her arms were folded across her chest and she was breathing in short, forced huffs.

"'Mione, you need to calm down. Its just lunch. Two hours at the most. Go and say hi, eat, tell Molly that you spent some time in the Muggle World, and that we met up randomly in a coffee shop and things went from there. There's not need to go into great detail all over again." Draco caught her on her fourth pass and pulled her to him. "I'll be there with you if anyone starts trouble. Harry and Ginny will be there too. You know you have people who love and support you Hermione—this doesn't have to be as hard as you're making it."

Hermione huffed again in his arms and buried her face in his chest. "I know. But I'd rather face Voldemort all over again that walk into that house and see Ronald Weasley."

"It won't be so bad, love. You'll see." Draco soothed her. He only hoped that his words were true.

--

Sunday afternoon, and everyone was gathering at the Burrow for lunch and family time. Harry and Ginny arrived early, due to Ginny's second trimester pregnancy and her lack of patience, and Harry paced in the front yard waiting for the inevitable.

Ron appeared with Lavender by his side moments later, and he walked to where Harry was walking a trench in front of the garden, and stuck out his hand. "Nervous about the baby already, Mate?" He asked, smiling at his friend.

"Harry's head shot up and he fished for a believable answer. "Uh. Yeah. Gin's kinda…scary… with her mood swings right about now…" Harry didn't think it was entirely believable, but Ron didn't know much about pregnant women, and didn't like to think of his sister as one of them—so he knew he'd avoid the subject.

Lavender squealed at the mention of Ginny's pregnancy and rushed into the kitchen to speak with her. Harry rolled his eyes.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, mate?" Harry said, discreetly peering over Ron's shoulder in case Draco and Hermione should appear. "Over six months now—since your last tour was over."

Ron puffed out his chest and nodded. Yep. The Cannons are well on their way to the Cup this year if I have anything to do with it! I might be the newest teammate—but I'm probably the most dedicated Keeper they've had in a century!"

Harry grinned and punched Ron's arm playfully. "Getting cocky again." He muttered, just as he saw Draco fade into view. Hermione followed him, and she had a sick look on her face—and she hadn't even seen Ron yet.

"I don't want to go in there." Hermione said, standing a few paces behind Draco. "It just feels all wrong."

Draco looked at the Burrow and tilted his head wondering at the magic it took to hold the house together. Turning back to Hermione, he gave her a little nudge. "Come on, it can't be that bad." Draco whispered. He began to follow her, and as soon as he'd turned, he saw Ron's eyes on him.

Harry tried to keep Ron from turning around, but once he'd caught a glimpse of the white-blond hair, it was over. He saw Draco first, and then he saw Hermione right beside him. "What are THEY doing here?" He asked, his teeth gritted, looking down at Harry.

"Molly invited Hermione, Ron." Harry said leveling a gaze on his friend that warned him not to start trouble.

"And the Ferret?" Ron didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he marched over to where Draco and Hermione stood and drew his wand on Draco. "What are you doing here, Ferret!?" he bellowed.

Draco stood his ground, glaring at the red headed menace, but he did not draw his wand in return. "I was invited, Weasel." Draco sneered at Ron and then looked over his shoulder and nodded to Harry.

Ron tried a different approach, he turned his anger on Hermione, "He came with YOU?!"

Hermione jumped back a bit away from the towering inferno of rage that was her Ex-Husband, but, her stubbornness would not let her back down, "Draco is my guest, yes." She replied.

"DRACO?" Ron's eyebrows rose. "Since when do you call him Draco?"

"That's my name, isn't it, Weasel?" Draco intercepted the question, placing himself in between Hermione and Ron.

"You stay out of this Ferret…" but before Ron could say or do anything else, Molly Weasley burst through the front door and cried for Hermione.

Hermione, hearing her name, stepped around the men, who were glaring at one another, and right into a bone-crushing hug. "Hi, Mrs. Weasley." She managed, once she'd regained her breath.

"Nonsense Hermione! Call me Molly! You know I still consider you a daughter! I was so upset when I heard you'd gone missing—and when the police said that you were probably dead—well!" Molly pulled Hermione back into the Kitchen, leaving Harry, Ron and Draco in the front yard glaring at one another.

--

Lunch was awkward. Every member of the very large Weasley clan was present—even Percy and his wife Penelope, who had just come back from their honeymoon. Everyone was anxious to learn what had happened to Hermione when she fled to the Muggle world, and she delivered the most convoluted story she'd ever cooked up in her life. She reminded herself to thank the Slytherin sitting at the table next to her, his hand on her knee in a comforting gesture, for most of the made-up details.

Harry and Ginny found themselves holding their breath during some parts, but were understanding and obliged Hermione in her secrecy. Neither of them asked any prying questions, and they helped to divert those who did.

It was obvious, however, that there was one person at the table who was just as uncomfortable as Hermione herself was. Ron stared at his plate the entire time Hermione was speaking without even lifting his fork. Several times his ears went red, or his face went white, but he said nothing, and he looked at no one.

Hermione found that reconnecting with the majority of the Weasleys was good for her soul. The only black part of her day was sitting at the other end of the table, his head boring a hole straight through to the ground. Draco took her hand on more than one occasion for reassurance and she could not have thanked him enough for being there with her—even though he was in the presence of a family that he and his ancestors had faced rivalry with for centuries.

When the meal was over and the dishes were cleaned, Hermione found herself sitting under a tree with Ginny and Harry and Fred and George and their wives while Draco watched from a branch or two above them. She told them all more details about her recent past living with Draco—how he'd helped her discover her powers, and how he'd taught her to play the piano and how he'd pretty much given her free reign over the entire Malfoy Estate. Fred and George nodded and winked at one another as only twins to, but Angelina and Alicia voiced the question, "Are you two in a relationship of some kind?"

Draco looked down at Hermione and smiled a secret smile at her. As she looked up at him, she felt warm inside. Turning back to the two girls she nodded. "Yes. I suppose you'd consider him my boyfriend." Hermione grinned, and they giggled and gossiped as they would have done when they were back in Hogwarts.

--

It was late in the afternoon when Ron approached the small group sitting beneath the tree. He looked as if he'd been in deep thought. He came to stand directly across from Hermione, his hands in his pockets and his head drooping on his shoulders. "Hermione. Can I talk to you alone?" he asked. It was an awkward question and it caught Draco's attention immediately. Harry's eyes darted to the limb Draco was perched on and shook his head in an indiscreet fashion.

Hermione's smile faded, and she cleared her throat. "What is there to talk about, Ronald?" she asked, coldly. "I don't have anything to say to you. But, if you want to talk, ok. We'll talk."

Ron nodded, his face reddening a bit—whether in embarrassment or rage no one knew. Harry stood and cleared his throat. "Well, Ginny and I really should be getting home—it's getting late after all." It was an obvious cue for dismissal. Harry helped his wife up and they walked over to say good bye to the rest of the family.

Fred and George and their wives followed suit, each of the ladies pulling Hermione into a fierce hug and Fred and George both kissing her cheek in a friendly manner.

Once everyone had left (all but Draco who remained motionless in the tree) Hermione leveled her gaze on Ron.

Ron stared at her for a moment, for the first time, really looking at her. "You look good, 'Mione." He said, though it was a struggle to say the words.

"I still haven't gained all my weight back. But thank you." Hermione said, unimpressed by his lack of sentiment.

"Where's Malfoy?" Ron's lip twitched in the beginning of a snarl, but he refrained from lashing out at her.

"What does that matter to you, Ron? We're not in Hogwarts anymore. And he's actually a much different person now." Hermione defended.

"Malfoy's never change, 'Mione! He's a Death Eater just like his father was. He should be in Azkaban with the rest of them!" Ron's anger was rising.

"I'll have you know I've seen his arm—both of them in fact—there's no Dark Mark on him. And did you know he was the principle witness in the case that sent his Mother and Father to the Dementors? You realized he gave his own parents up for the sake of justice?" Hermione's arms crossed angrily. It was clear that Ron had not received this information.

"It doesn't matter. He's not good enough for you!" Ron growled.

"You should be one to talk about whose good for me Ronald! At least Draco hasn't cheated on me yet! In fact, if it weren't for Draco—I wouldn't be where I am today!" Hermione cried.

In the tree Draco gritted his teeth and fingered his wand. He knew this was Hermione's battle to fight, and it was necessary for her to overcome this—but it was all he could do not to tear the Weasel to shreds.

"That's right, Hermione. If it weren't for the Ferret, you'd still be a childless prostitute—selling herself on the streets for her next meal!" Ron roared his ears reddening.

Hermione gasped, taking aback at Ron's words. She was rendered speechless.

In the tree, Draco nearly broke his wand in two so strong was his anger.

"How do you know what I went through? How can you presume to know what it was like?!" Hermione cried, tears already welling up in her eyes.

"It couldn't have been that bad Hermione—because if it was, you wouldn't have done it for so long!" Ron yelled back. "And having the Muggle Police file a claim that you were missing and probably dead—did you really think it would hurt me?" Ron's face was as red as his hair, he was angry and embarrassed, and hurt and Hermione knew that he didn't know what he said when he got emotional—but every word that came from his mouth was a dagger in her.

"I did none of that for you!" she said, the tears began to fall.

"NO?!" Ron bellowed, "You did everything you could to make me look like the bastard Hermione! I screwed up! I admit it! But now I'm glad I ended up with Lavender! She may not be as smart as you are—but she's certainly not a whore!"

Hermione's hand reached out and she slapped Ron across the face with all her might.

Draco could take no more and he leapt from his position and embraced Hermione protectively, glaring over her head at Ron.

"You will not talk to a lady that way. I don't know who you think you are, Weasel—but if you want to call someone names and fight—let us fight like men and be done with it." Draco hissed, his arms tightening around Hermione as she sobbed against him.

Ron growled and seethed at Draco. "Fitting she should end up with YOU." Ron snarled.

"I'd say it's a vast improvement from her last relationship." Draco sneered.

Ron snorted and stalked off to find Lavender and leave.

Hermione hiccupped and sniffled a few times before she was able to calm herself down.

"Are you okay, love?" Draco asked, tenderly, he looked up to see Harry walking slowly toward them.

"I'm okay." Hermione mumbled. "I actually didn't expect any less from him."

About that time, Harry wandered up, "Listen, Ginny and I are going to leave for real this time—I wanted to hang around in case, you know, things got out of hand… but if you need me, you know where to find me, alright?" Harry extended a hand to Draco.

Draco shook Harry's hand and nodded. "I think its time we left too, 'Mione." Draco murmured to her, and she nodded.

They made their rounds quickly, telling Molly and Arthur good by, and thank you for having them over. Hermione promised Molly that despite her son's foul attitude, she would visit again soon and with that, she and Draco apparated back to Malfoy Manor.

--

Hermione immediately went to her room and crawled into her bed and curled into a ball. She wasn't crying, but she was thinking.

Draco watched for a while, before he decided to join her—not feeling comfortable anywhere else in the Manor without her near him. He molded himself to her, and wrapped his arms tightly around her. "Is everything ok, love?" he whispered into her hair.

"Actually, Draco, I feel ok." Hermione said, and sounded confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Ron made me feel terrible today. But under all of that, I felt what he was feeling. I felt the hurt and loneliness he felt—he misses the way we were in school." Hermione said, and rolled in Draco's grasp to face him.

Draco kissed her forehead. "You felt his feelings like you felt Harry's." Draco surmised. "But you didn't solve anything with him."

"That will come with time. I know it will. He will learn to accept you the same way Harry and the others have—he will break down and apologize to me and we'll make up and be friends again." Hermione said, caressing Draco's cheek with her hand.

Draco closed his eyes in thought—could Hermione's meeting with Ron today have been all that was necessary to give her back her magic? Draco's thoughts turned into ideas and plans as he held Hermione and she slept the night through in his arms.

--

Draco owled Harry at the Ministry Monday morning asking for a favor so big only Harry Potter could pull it off; when he found Hermione, she was sitting in the library, reading a book about spells far to advanced for her current capabilities. "Love, I have made a rather large request of Potter to test your magic tonight."

Hermione looked up at Draco her brows knit in wonder, "what are you talking about?"

Draco knelt down beside her and kissed her hand. "I'm afraid if I told you it might ruin everything. But, tonight at midnight, we are to floo to the Ministry. Potter's sneaking us into one of the Auror training rooms—a special training room."

"Draco—I don't know if that's such a good idea—Aurors are tested to the very extreme of their abilities—and I barely have the abilities of a second year." Hermione looked uncertain, and a tad afraid of what Draco was planning.

"Not to worry, Hermione, Harry and I will work on your level—the Ministry just has better equipment than a quaffle." Draco said, smiling. "Besides, if your magic has improved the way I believe it has—we may need more than a ball to test your skills."

Hermione swallowed hard, but nodded her assent. "I will give it a shot, Draco—but I can't make any promises."

"That's all I can ask for, love." Draco said, and wandered into the kitchen for a bite to eat. Silently, he thought about what he was putting Hermione up to that evening, and he knew, in his heart, that Hermione could do anything she set her mind to. He just prayed that she was prepared for what he and Harry were going to throw at her.

_**Author's Notes:**_

_**Seven!**_

_**Did the meeting with Ron go the way you expected? I bet you thought they'd come to a happy understanding, didn't you? HAH! Not in THIS story! (well, maybe in another chapter, lol) She felt what he was feeling though—and that's what's important—you know Ron is pants at saying what he feels!**_

_**Anyway—Up next—Hermione's final test—will she pass? Also—isn't it about time Draco and Hermione actually DID IT?!**_

_**XD **_

_**Stay tuned for the next installment!**_


	9. Hermione's Happiness

Chapter 9: Hermione's Happiness

_**Comin down the years turn over**_

_**And angels fall without you there**_

_**And Ill go and lead you home and**_

_**All because im**_

_**All because im**_

After dinner, Draco told Hermione to dress in jeans and long sleeves. He told her to wear her hair up and out of her face. She wondered whether she was going to train or whether she was going into battle.

Hermione did as she was asked, and around eleven that night, they met Harry at the entrance to the Auror training facilities. "Will someone tell me what's going on here?" Hermione begged, getting a little more than agitated at their silence.

"If we do that 'Mione, it might ruin any chance you have of getting your powers back. If you're totally unprepared for anything we might throw at you—then we can know for sure if your magic is up to par." Harry said. He didn't look at her.

"You seriously think that that fight I had yesterday did anything to improve my powers? Have both of you gone barking mad?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

"Hermione, you know we're just trying to help you—we won't let anything bad happen, I promise." Draco said, putting his arm around her and continuing to walk.

"That's not the point, you guys…" Hermione continued feebly, but stopped, when the entered one of the gigantic training rooms.

"They're a bit like the Room of Requirement, really." Harry explained. "More modern, and more controllable, though."

Draco grinned looking around at the arena-like room. "This should give us plenty of room." He nodded.

"I think so." Harry agreed, and then with a wave of his wand, nearly all the light in the room ceased.

"HEY! What's the big idea?!" Hermione said.

"Draw your wand, love." She heard Draco say beside her and she did so, though she felt silly holding the stick in her hand knowing that it was practically useless.

"Hermione, this is a simulation—but it is going to appear and feel real." Harry called from somewhere near the other end of the room. She wondered how he'd gotten that far away from her. "You must be able to defend yourself because even though what you see isn't the real thing, it can hurt you in a similar fashion."

"I understand. But you know my magic's not exactly trustworthy right now!" Hermione called, feeling a bit frantic. She began to look around her trying to focus on the things she could see in the dim lighting. Suddenly, she recognized the room—it was one of the court rooms in the Department of Mysteries. It was clear what Harry was recreating, and she shuddered at the thought of what would come bursting through the doors.

"Get ready you two." Harry said. And there was a thudding noise, Hermione backed up against a wall, she was shaking and doubting herself. "There's no way I can face this Harry!" she screamed. "It's too much!"

Harry yelled to her from across the room, but she didn't hear what he said. She shrank into herself and huddled beneath a desk in the corner shivering in despair.

Harry called an end to the simulation and swished his wand as the lights came back on. He ran to where Hermione was crouched and picked her up from the floor. Draco was hot on his heels.

"'Mione, you're alright. It's ok. You have to trust your powers." Harry said. "You have to believe you can do it."

"But Harry, you've seen how truly terrible I am! If all those Death Eaters came bursting in here, real or not, I'd be totally defenseless against them!" She was shaking her head and crying.

Harry looked helplessly at Draco. "You're wrong Hermione." Harry said. "I'll prove it to you."

With that he took a step or two back from her and took a defensive stance. "Try to disarm me."

Draco stood beside Hermione and looked down at her.

"You know I can't, Harry."

"You were the only one who ever could." Harry replied, smiling a little. "Now disarm me."

"You can do it, Hermione—just focus" Draco said, placing his hand on her back gently and pushing her forward. "Give it a try."

Hermione sniffed and nodded, before taking her wand and holding it at attention. "Are you ready Harry?"

The raven haired boy nodded.

"EXPELIARMUS!" Hermione cried focusing with all her might on making the spell work.

Harry cried out a "Protego!" but his want went flying anyway.

All three of them stood in shock for a moment. Finally, Harry spoke. "I told you!"

Hermione looked at her wand in disbelief. "It was a fluke." She said, "I can't do that more than once.

"Then try it against me." Draco said. And brandished his own wand.

She tried it again, and Draco's want was sent flying.

"Try something else Hermione!" Draco cried picking his wand from the ground and grinning at her."

--

They ran through a myriad of spells—offensive and defensive—and it was as though Hermione had never stopped practicing her magic. Soon, she was able to take both boys on simultaneously, and even though Harry was an Auror, was able to disarm them both. "HAH! I don't believe it!" she cried in pure joy, pumping her fist into the air.

"We told you you just had to trust yourself." Harry said, grinning at her. "Are you ready for the simulation, now?"

Hermione nodded, and swallowed a lump in her throat. "I'm ready." She said.

Harry nodded and doused the lights and soon, the room changed back into a courtroom like place, and the banging began once again. Hermione felt Draco near her, and knew that Harry was on the other side of the room in order to watch how she reacted and to intervene if need be, but she still couldn't help but feel like this was the real thing—she'd faced Death Eaters so many times before and each time she felt she was lucky to walk away with her life.

Finally the doors burst open and several cloaked, masked figures flooded into the room. They began to throw out spells almost immediately, and Hermione threw up her shield as an instinct. Once she found shelter behind a stone barrier, she began to fire at the masked figures. She took down two with a body-bind, three more with banishing curses and reductos. And yet another with Snape's very on 'sectumsempra'. She threw every curse she could think of at them simultaneously fighting for her life and testing the limits of her skills. She felt that some spells were a bit of a struggle for her still—they pulled at her insides when she cast them, but others were easy for her to produce and she didn't feel any negative side effects at all. With each curse she threw she felt the magic course through her veins, she felt more alive and more herself than she had in a long time.

She nearly had all of the Death Eaters bound or destroyed when she felt it. The room grew icy cold. A sense of dread and foreboding filled her. Hermione felt as though she would never be happy again. Turning once more to the door, she felt her heart plummet to her shoes as she watched four large, hooded figures glide past the threshold. Knowing the spell that was required she lifted her wand and stuttered out "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" but nothing happened. Taking a few steps back, she tried again. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" white vapor fizzled out of the end of her wand like mist on the surface of a lake but her otter was no where to be seen.

Harry and Draco saw this at the same time and both shouted the charm at the top of their lungs. Harry's stag, as well as a great white Dragon soared from the tips of their wands and banished the Dementors from the room. Harry called an end to the simulation.

--

"I just don't understand what happened." Hermione said. "It seems I can do everything else—though I admit some of it needs some practice—why can't I perform that charm?"

"The Patronus Charm, as you know requires a deeply happy memory, Hermione. One you draw on for the charm to materialize. Do you have any memories like that now?" Harry asked gently, handing her a cup of hot cocoa. They were back at Harry's and Ginny's Manor and though Ginny was fast asleep and it was well past midnight, they sat in the kitchen discussing what went wrong.

"It doesn't make sense, Harry. I could do it when I was in school. That memory should be enough, shouldn't it?" Though, when she thought about that answer, she knew the truth—the memory couldn't suffice, because the memory had involved Harry and Ron. And now that Ron and she had faced each other again and she knew how hurt he was inside—whether or not he said so—the memory was useless.

"You have to find your happiest memory, Hermione." Harry sighed. "I can't tell you what that is. But it isn't the same as it used to be."

Hermione nodded and finished her cocoa. "I know Harry. I just wish I knew what to do about it.

Draco thought about the situation silently. If it required that she make a new memory—then he wanted to be the one to help her with that. "Hermione, it's late. I think we've done enough for tonight." Draco said, and he looked at Harry with meaning.

"You're right. I have a lot to think about." Hermione said, and set the mug on the kitchen counter. "Thank you Harry—for all your help." She hugged her friend and then she and Draco apparated back to Malfoy Manor.

--

In Draco's bedroom, he undressed down to his boxers and then paced in front of his fireplace deep in thought. He wondered if there was anything he could do to help Hermione with her dilemma.

Hermione dressed in thin cotton pajamas, pale pink with hearts, and wandered down the hall to Draco's room. She didn't want to be alone tonight. She wasn't quite sure what she wanted.

Draco heard a faint knock on his door, and he turned to see Hermione open it and peek in. "Hey. Come in." He whispered to her.

"Sorry—you're not dressed." She blushed, and struggled to look away from him.

Draco smirked and looked down at himself. "Actually—I thought I would sleep this way—I told you I usually sleep in the nude." He said a smile on his face as he watched her blush deepen.

Hermione didn't reply as she came to him, allowed herself to be wrapped up in his arms. Looked into his stormy gray eyes. "Draco, I am happy here." She said, after a long moment of them just looking at one another.

"Are you really?" Draco asked.

"Yes." She replied. "I couldn't think of anywhere else I'd rather be."

"Good." He replied, and leaned his head down to kiss her. Draco had been restraining himself for so long, it was nearly killing him. He wanted Hermione, needed her so badly it hurt him to breathe. But he loved her and would rather die than hurt her…

In that kiss, Draco growled deep in his throat and pulled Hermione to him. Bowing his head to join their lips harder. He pulled away, and brought his face close to her ear and whispered the three words he'd been screaming in his head and heart for over a month to her. "I love you Hermione." It was the first time he'd ever really and truly said it—the passion in his voice made it husky, needy.

He heard her gasp, and he shut his eyes, before pulling away enough to look at her again. In his arms, she was crushed against him, and he could feel her heart beating through her chest. She was so soft, and she curved in all the right places. "You're the very breath that keeps me going Hermione. Please. You must know that." He murmured, before covering her lips with his again.

She sobbed in response, and opened her mouth to him. Her hands, of their own volition, wound themselves around Draco's neck, and she pressed hard against him, aching to fell every inch of the tall man. Draco groaned into her mouth and snatched his lips away fiercely. The look in his eyes, Hermione knew, was feral, and there was a throbbing deep within her that begged him to act on his thoughts.

"Hermione." It was a question, a statement, and a command, all at once. Draco's hands clenched the cloth of her night shirt so hard his knuckles were white.

"Draco…" Hermione breathed back, looking deep into his smoky eyes. They both knew it was too late for her to leave. She leaned into him again, forcing him back into an end-table; her meaning was not missed in her eyes.

Draco's hands found their way under her night shirt, and soon it was lying in a heap at their feat. His calloused fingertips were hot against her skin and they seared every inch of flesh they touched. Her skin was smooth, perfect. Moving his hands up over her, he brought them to her shoulders. He pulled her to him again gently, running his hands slowly up and down her back.

Hermione's hands were shaking when she reached for Draco. She was standing almost naked before him, his hands resting on her hips, and she was nervous for the first time in a long time. Finally, she heard him gasp for air, just as her fingertips touched the skin just above the elastic of his boxers.

"Beautiful." He choked out, and took both of her wrists and scooped her up in his arms. Hermione cried out in surprise, but allowed him to pick her up and carry her to his bed.

Fluidly, Draco laid Hermione down on the bed, and pressed himself hard down on top of her. He felt her hands slide down his chest and sides sending shivers down his spine as once again, they paused at his waistband. Draco kissed Hermione hard, and then pulled himself away from her only long enough to rid her and himself of the rest of their clothing. When he returned to her, they met skin to skin.

Hermione marveled at the sculpted body pressing itself into her. She ran her hands firmly down Draco's back and pressed herself up against him as she approached his waist. She both heard and felt him groan and push back against her. She'd seen Draco without his shirt on many times, but it was somehow different, when his hands were on her, touching her, caressing her. Loving her.

They were both panting when he released her mouth and traced her jaw line in fervent kisses. Taking her earlobe into his mouth briefly, he followed her muscles down her neck, licking and sucking and tasting her. Hermione cried out in pleasure and surprise when his mouth found one of her nipples, and then the other. It had been so long since anyone had taken the time to care about her this way. Even Ron wasn't this sensual. Her hands matted themselves in his fine hair, and yanked his head back up to hers.

Draco looked at her and grinned for a long time, feeling her wriggle with anticipation beneath him. He saw the plea in her eyes, and he kissed her as he parted her thighs with his own. He was in no condition to argue with her and just before he pressed himself into her, he pulled away and gauged her expression as though it were her first time.

"Please—Draco—I've waited long enough…" Her voice was nearly gone, and she was shivering.

_It has been too long._ Draco thought and pressed himself forward slowly; relishing every inch, she took him in. when he was buried to the hilt, he wrapped an arm around Her, cradling the small of her back, lifting her up so that she could feel him inside her. Her legs, instinctively wrapped themselves around her waist, opening herself up to him, and drawing him in even further. They both groaned, even as they looked at each other in the moonlight.

Desire set their pace, and Draco toyed with her a bit before giving her the ecstasy she begged for. With her cry of completion, Draco relinquished himself within her, collapsing to the bed and drawing her up close against him. Hermione's legs did not surrender their grip on his hips, though, keeping them connected even as they caressed one another into a deep, peaceful sleep.

--

That night, Hermione dreamed of great white dragons. She dreamt of a bright beautiful creature that would come and save her and keep her safe from all harm. She called that creature Draco.

_**Author's Notes:**_

_**Chapter 9!**_

_**SO… yeah… M-Rated for a reason!**_

_**Up Next—surprise! And moving on… It starts to wind down…**_

_**Thanks for all your wonderful reviews! I love you guys!**_


	10. What You Became to Me

Chapter 10: What You Became to Me

_**And Ill become**_

_**What you became to me**_

Draco woke the next morning feeling more tired than when he went to bed. It wasn't a mental tiredness that usually plagued him, but an aching stiffness that seemed to have washed over his body like a tidal wave. Then, he remembered why. He looked down upon the woman who was sprawled out on top of him. Her legs still gripped either side of his hips, and he smiled as he rubbed her back and woke her. "'Mione—Hermione, its morning." He called her name gently and groaned as she moved around him.

Hermione, as she moved, felt her passions rising up in her, and she opened her eyes and sat up on her haunches to gaze down at the man below her. In the morning light, he was even more wonderful than she had imagined. Her hands slid up his stomach and over his chest and she watched as his eyes rolled back into his head. "It's also Sunday." She purred before leaning down and trailing kisses across his broad chest. She felt his reaction to her, as they were still connected, and she smiled.

"We have work to do." Draco growled, though his tone made it clear he was no more willing to leave the bed than she was.

Hermione pressed her lips to his adam's apple, and then whispered back, "we have all day to work on my magic, Draco." Her voice was dripping with lust and pent up passion and it made Draco squirm in excitement.

"Consider this practice, then, love." Draco groaned, putting his hands on her hips and flipping her underneath him. "You must work on finding a happy memory, after all."

"I am certain I have found enough to make a thousand Patronuses." Hermione sighed, gazing half-lidded up at her blond haired lover.

"One more won't hurt." Draco whispered, kissing her heatedly as he began to move.

--

They stood in the Auror training arena once again. It was well past midnight, Harry had restarted the simulation and this time, Hermione did not hesitate to trust her magic. She fired spells she hadn't fired since the end of the Great War. Executed moves she hadn't performed since the last faced down Voldemort himself. Hermione made record time defeating the Death Eaters that came at her—binding, banishing, reductoing, any thing she could think of. She performed a few spells that Draco and Harry didn't know themselves.

That wasn't the real test, however. She had stood her ground against the simulated Death Eaters before—and she had beaten them. It was the Dementors which posed the true threat to Hermone's magic. As they entered the room, both Harry and Draco backed away so that Hermione became the sole target. She knew that they would do this—but she still faltered at first. She knew that her Patronus Charm had been altered by the entire ordeal. She wasn't sure she even still had the Otter she was so familiar with.

Usually when Hermione performed a spell, she could predict—feel—what the outcome would look like. Reductors were blue. Stunners were red. She saw it in her mind and she felt it, almost as if she could feel the color itself as it flowed through her body and out of her wand.

With the Patronus Charm it was different. When she'd first produced a fully corporeal Patronus—her otter—back in fifth year—she had committed the feel of it magical surge to memory. A day ago, when she was faced with the challenge, the feeling would not come. The first time she'd tried against the simulated Dementors, she felt nothing at all. Her magic got so far and then, it seemed to just come to a halt with in her—it refused to produce itself in her wand.

Now, for the second time she faced the Dementors, she felt something entirely different. The magic was willing to leave the wand, but the surge was entirely foreign to her. It caused her to hesitate.

"Hermione! Now!" She heard Harry yelling at her, and she saw the bright white light of the beginnings of his Stag.

"I can do this!" she cried back to stop him. Closing her eyes, several memories flashed behind her lids. All of them involved the blond man standing in the shadows watching her pensively. When her mind settled on the night before—when they'd finally been made one, she reopened her eyes and came face to ugly face with one of the Dementors. Gasping and ducking its lips as it bent its head to hers; she ran around it and pointed her wand to the sky, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

What came out of her wand was not the otter she was so used to. Instead, the form was much bigger, winged, and far more dangerous than her otter had ever been. Suddenly, she was reminded of another Patronus she'd seen just the day before.

--

Draco shouted the charm into the sky and light erupted from his wand. A great, masculine dragon flew from its keep and raced at the offending creatures, driving them back away from Hermione, himself, and Harry.

He'd cast this charm dozens of times during the war. It had become essential to keep the Dementors in line once they'd joined forces with the Dark Lord. He was forced to stay in a Manor where they lurked the dungeons and the perimeters. He had felt as though he were in Azkaban himself.

It was really no surprise that Draco's Patronus was the Dragon. It was everything Draco was. Strong-willed and protective of what he considered his. Cunning, dangerous, aggressive, powerful yet graceful. Deadly, yet beautiful. He liked this particular charm very much.

As he watched Hermione dodge the Dementors' attempted kiss, he raised his wand to shout the incantation. Luckily, Hermione beat him to it and this time, she produced a corporeal Patronus. Draco couldn't believe what he saw.

--

Harry's nerves were tense. This was the big test—had Hermione searched and found the memory that would work for her Patronus? Or would Harry once again have to intervene? He saw the Dementor lean over her and she did nothing—he began his incantation, and only stopped when he heard her shout.

He waited nervously as she dodged the cloaked figure and raised her wand to the air. When she shouted the charm a form did fly from her wand—but it was not the form he had been expecting at all. He found himself looking at Draco for some kind of explanation.

--

Hermione watched as the graceful feminine version of Draco's Dragon flew from her wand and charged at the Dementors bearing down on her. With its wings extended, it opened its mouth in a silent roar gnashing its teeth at the cloaked figures. The Dementors screeched and fled from the brilliance of the light.

Hermione watched mesmerized as she held tight to her wand and pushed against the force of the Dementors to guide them back out of the room. Her Otter was gone. It had been replaced by a creature she hadn't known existed within her. An overwhelming sense of happiness flooded through her as the light faded and she dropped her hand. The Patronus had matched itself to Draco's. She had only heard of that sort of thing happening once before—with the Auror Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin. Tonks' Patronus became a wolf after she fell madly in love with Lupin.

Hermione turned to Draco and offered him a meaningful smile. She had done it. She had gotten her magic back. She'd produced a very difficult charm flawlessly.

Harry ended the simulation and jogged over to the two who were staring at each other. "Hermione, I thought your Patronus was an Otter?" he questioned, looking between the two.

"It was." Hermione said, looking at her friend and smiling. "But that was before I fell in love with Draco." She explained. "He helped me get my magic back, after all. He is the one I share my most happy memories with now." Hermione walked over to Draco and wrapped her arms around his waist. "It makes sense that the Patronus took after his, he's everything to me."

Harry blinked at the two. It was clear that Draco didn't know what to say in front of Harry. Harry stuck his hand out for Draco to shake. "I suppose congratulations are in order." He said, with half a smile on his face. "But I also want to thank you." He said, sincerely. "You brought my best friend back into my life and I don't know what I would have done if I wasn't made a part of this."

Draco took the raven-haired man's hand and shook it. "You have no need to thank me, Potter. It appears that I'll do anything for the one I love." He squeezed Hermione a little for emphasis.

--

When Draco and Hermione arrived back at the Manor both were energized and happy. Despite the fact that it was early morning and the sun was only an hour or two from rising, they sat in the kitchen and talked and shared tea and cookies. Finally, the subject drifted around to finishing Draco's West Wing.

Draco, honestly, had forgotten about the abandoned side of his house. He had been so caught up in getting Hermione's magic back to her, he put all else on hold. He conducted business through owl post and floo, made friends with his former enemies, even reacquainted himself with the Weasley's—a family who'd been estranged from the Pureblood line for generations.

"I've almost finished the elves' quarters." Hermione noted, sipping her tea. "They wouldn't let me do too much, honestly, no matter how hard I tried. I had to almost FORCE Mopsy to allow me to add things like linens and drapery to the windows and beds." She mused. "So the second floor is taken care of. The ballroom—though it could use some sprucing up—really shouldn't take too much effort. A few good household cleaning charms and its as good as new. As for the third floor—" Hermione paused gauging Draco's reaction.

"We could turn it into guest rooms." Draco said with a sigh. "I mean, what's in the past is in the past. The house is mine now. There's not Dark Arts stuff lying around for people to trip over and hurt them with. I think once we get all the old furniture out, change the flooring, maybe paint or something, it'll be as good as new."

Hermione nodded. "That sounds like a wonderful idea!" she clapped her hands together happily.

She took his arm and together they walked up the stairs to the third floor. Draco shuddered remembering his last visit to this place, but pushed open the double doors without a word.

"He and Hermione both went through each room, removing things that they could use in other parts of the house and adding or transfiguring new things to suit their purpose. His mother's study was turned into a lounge and common sitting room. The meeting room was turned into a large bathroom with a rather large pool-like tub for bathing in and a skylight that let in the brightness of the morning sun. There were several other rooms that were transformed into spare bedrooms, each with its own color scheme and unique features. One was done in shades of blue, another in green and silver, still another in red and gold. Hermione was meticulous and detail oriented when it came to the decorations and she got a few of the elves to help with some of the finer points. Draco admired her handiwork, admired the work he himself had done; already, the house felt lighter—less foreboding. The air was not heavy with evil the sins of others. Instead, it was bright and fresh with the love and care of his and Hermione's relationship.

--

When Draco and Hermione reached the end of the hallway, the paused. It was the last room on the floor—they'd been working most the day and it was now hours after lunchtime as they stood before Draco's old bedroom.

"We don't have to." Hermione said, remembering the last time they went into the room.

"No. I want to." Draco said. The emotions bottled up inside of him were whirring around but he opened the door and stepped through the threshold without any sense of dread. Hermione was right behind him.

"Draco?"

"I want to leave this room the way it is." Draco said finally.  
Hermione didn't understand. "I thought you didn't want to remember your past?" she whispered to him, placing a hand on his arm.

"It's not about the past anymore, Hermione. I'm thinking about the future."

Hermione's brow knitted.

"I just need to mend some of the more…damaged… areas…" Draco said, and Hermione followed him

He made his way to the stain by the bed, he levitated the furniture that was sitting on the rug and removed the rug and banished it. He conjured a new rug, a green and silver one with intricate patterns and designs embroidered into its face, and placed it down underneath the bed and dresser. Next, he replaced the broken window sill and painted the room to cover some of the imperfections in the walls. He removed the wardrobe with his hand print in it and replaced it with a brand new one that matched the furniture already in the room.

Hermione beat him to the bathroom and stared at the shattered corner of the mirror for a moment. Silently, she banished the mirror and conjured a new one. This one matched the themes his room had already picked up, and its patterns mirrored the ones in the carpet Draco had just laid down. She stood back and looked herself over when Draco joined her.

"It's lovely." He murmured and kissed her temple. "Just what I would have picked."

"I don't understand why you insist on keeping this as it is." Hermione mumbled, but sighed and looked up at Draco. "Whatever your reason, I'm proud of you. I'm glad you didn't remove this room entirely." She smiled.

"Glad?" Draco asked

"Yes. This was your childhood, Draco. This is a part of who you are. It is true that some horrible things happened to you in this house—but I know there have been some truly wonderful moments here too." Hermione explained.

Draco smiled. "The most wonderful moments this house has ever seen have been during your stay Hermione. You have really helped me face my past and come to terms with who I am and where I come from—whether you know it or not." Draco pulled the curly-haired woman into his arms.

"It seems we're perfect for one another, then, Draco Malfoy." Hermione smiled. "You gave me back my magic, and I found a purpose in helping you learn to love yourself again."

Draco merely nodded his assent and dipped his head low to capture Hermione's lips with his own. "You have captured my heart, 'Mione, you have saved me from my loneliness and it was more than I could have ever asked for."

Hermione grinned, "I don't plan on going anywhere for a long time, Draco, so you have all the time in the world to properly thank me."

--

They ate dinner leisurely, sat by the fire and read to one another, cast a few wandless frivolous spells to make one another laugh, talked about their past, and made love over and over until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

The seed of love had been planted. It had been given fertile soil in which to grow, and it had blossomed into something truly amazing—something neither of them expected.

Hermione woke sometime in the night and laid thinking about the future. Would she and Draco marry? If so, did he expect her to have children? She remembered telling him about her…disability… when she'd first arrived at the Manor, but, things had been going so well for them that she had almost forgotten herself. She almost felt normal again.

She remembered what Draco said about his willingness to adopt—but Hermione couldn't help but feel disappointed at not being able to bear his children herself. She felt inadequate, incomplete, damaged. As she lay in Draco's arms, she wondered if he ever thought that far into the future. She wondered if he contemplated what they would do in a year or two; if they would still be together. It was with these questions in her mind that Hermione drifted back to sleep just before the daylight hours.

Little did she know that Draco had thought about the future and he intended to share it completely with Hermione. Little else did she know that doctors, no matter their talent in magic, are sometimes very, very wrong.

_**Author's Note:**_

_**10!**_

_**Ok. So it's coming to an end, folks. There will be just one more chapter—and epilogue. There will be resolutions all around, and maybe a surprise or two ;) stay tuned!**_

_**FM**_


	11. What Has Become of Us? Epilogue

Chapter 11: What Has Become of Us? (Epilogue)

_**Baby's black balloon makes her fly  
I almost fell into that hole in your life  
And you're not thinking about tomorrow  
cause you were the same as me**_

**Six Months Later**

Hermione held little James Emmanuel Potter in her arms and cooed at the baby looking up at her. "Oh Ginny, he's absolutely adorable." She said, mesmerized by the miniature of Harry bundled in her lap.

Ginny cooed and giggled girlishly at Hermione's compliments. "He looks exactly like his father—the first in a long line of Weasley-blood to have something other than red hair!" she exclaimed.

Hermione grinned and handed the baby back to Ginny before turning to the proud papa. "You must be thrilled, Harry."

"Terrified is more like it." Harry chuckled.

Hermione gave him a quizzical look.

"Unlike you and Ginny Hermione, I never had parents to teach me how it's done." Harry's face slid into a sad smile. "I'm sort of a fish out of water here."

Ginny interrupted him rocking the baby. "Don't listen to him Hermione, he's a wonderful daddy!" she said grinning at her husband.

Hermione laughed at the interchange and stood from her place on their living room couch. "It's been wonderful seeing you Gin—congratulations—both of you, on the wonderful little bundle of joy you have now. I'm only sorry I couldn't get by sooner."

Harry stood to walk her to the fireplace. "We're glad to have you Hermione." He said with a large grin. "But I think there's someone you should be getting home to."

There was a strange sparkle in both Ginny's and Harry's eyes as she said her last good-byes for the night and flooed back to Malfoy Manor. When she arrived, she immediately noticed that something was amiss. The great room, where she expected Draco to be sitting and waiting for her was empty. There was only a large red ribbon tied around the doorknob to the room.

Wiping her self off she set her things down and curiously walked over to the double doors. As she untied the ribbon, a picture fell to her feet. She bent down and picked it up and noticed that it was the picture of her at the Yule Ball in fourth year. Curious, she flipped it over, and there, scrawled in Draco's neat script, were the words "follow the ribbon, love and find me."

Hermione's heart leapt in wonder and excitement as she threw the double doors open and scooped the heavy satin ribbon up. The ribbon was draped down the hallway and it led her up the stairs. On the first floor landing, she found a dozen yellow roses and another note that said "These represent a friendship forged against all the odds." She smiled at his thoughtfulness and inhaled of the flowers deeply. She left them in the ornate vase where they stood and continued up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs she found a stand with another set of roses—these were deep, velvety crimson. The note that sat with them read "These represent my love for you. These flowers are charmed never to die, Hermione, and they are a symbol of my undying love for you."

Hermione felt tears prick her eyes as she set the card on the table and ran her fingers across the delicate blooms. "So beautiful."

She turned from the stand and followed the ribbon to her room. This she thought was a bit odd, because she'd not really used the room in months. She paused a moment before opening the door and looked down the hallway toward the room that had become theirs. Shrugging she untied the ribbon from the knob and pushed the door open.

--

Draco had this moment planned for months. He liked to lie awake at night with Hermione pressed up against him and think about how he was going to make it work. The more he thought about it, the more things he added. The roses, the picture, what the note cards would say." So when the day came for him to finally do it, all he had to do was get Hermione out of the Manor.

His chance came when Harry and Ginny had their son. He thought it was fitting that she go to their place to celebrate with them a few days after Ginny was released from St. Mungos, and he conveniently had to work all day that day. As soon as Hermione left after lunch, he collected the elves and put them to work making everything perfect for her return.

Now, Draco was standing hidden in one of their favorite places, knowing that Hermione was back as he'd heard her floo in; he waited for her to follow his trail that would lead her to him.

--

Hermione opened her French doors and gasped. The entire room was covered in flower petals. The floor, the bed, every nook and cranny was graced by red and white roses. She marveled at the room as she stepped into it carefully. She'd never seen anything like it in her life. The air even smelled wonderfully fresh and sweet.

She followed the ribbon, which had been laid atop the carpet of petals, to the bed, where she found the most beautiful dress she'd ever laid eyes on. It was deep green and was embroidered with silver trim. It wasn't a long dress, it hit her mid calf, but it was fancy—a cocktail type—made of flowing silks and satins that would keep her cool in the warm night air of early summer. She found matching shoes and a matching purse sitting with it. Picking up the card that was folded and lying on top of the dress she sighed, "Oh, Draco…"

The card read "Put this on and look out your window." She smiled widely as she did so, slipping out of her jeans and sneakers and into the dress. She ran to the bathroom to look at herself in the full length mirror and she nearly lost her breath at the sight. Though she had not yet done her make up or hair, she found that the dress fit her perfectly. It hugged her tiny waist and dipped just low enough to hint at her cleavage. It flowed free down over her hips and rippled against her calves prettily. It was a halter top and the straps were ribbons that were meant to hang down the back of the dress. She tied them in a neat but firm bow and adjusted it to fit properly. Twirling around again, she noticed the falling star pattern of silver embroidery that traveled down her chest to her waist line. There were tiny jewels sewn into the material and they sparkled as she moved.

Hermione pulled her hair up into a modified French twist, letting the curls flow prettily over the tight bun-like do. She noticed that a few ringlets had escaped her ministrations, but she allowed them to stay, as they rested gently against her face and neck. He ran her wand over her face and hair with a glamour charm quickly cementing the work she'd done on her hair and adding a light colored eye shadow to her face. She finished off with a pale shimmery lip-gloss, and gave herself one last once-over. With a smile and a nod, she slipped on the shoes and filled the handbag with a few necessities and went to the great window that sat across from her bed.

When Hermione looked out, she found a red ribbon leading from the back door—which her room was right over—out into the gardens. Her eyes followed the line of red until it disappeared in the labyrinth and she smiled. She had no idea where it would lead, but she was nervous and excited none the less. She wondered what the occasion was.

Quickly, she wandered back down stairs, stopping to pull one of the yellow roses from its vase, happily taking it in her hands as she left through the back door and followed the satin ribbon down the walkway through the gardens.

--

Hermione stopped when she saw the bow at the end of the labyrinth. She'd just walked through it, admiring the late blooming flowers, and when she reached the other side, she found herself staring at her butterfly house. "What on earth…" she whispered, lifting the rose she'd brought with her to her nose again. She strode forward to the glass door and saw the bow tied against the handle with a note carefully tucked into the loop. It read "this is the first gift I ever gave you, Hermione. Come inside and find me."

She sighed as she pulled the ribbon from the handle and carefully opened the door. Once inside, she giggled involuntarily at the feel of the butterflies on her neck and arms.

She strode the length of the house playing with the tiny creatures along the way, and at the other end, she saw a figure silhouetted against the moonlight. She recognized the form right away—Draco Malfoy.

"Draco, what—?" but he held his hand up to stop her question. He strode forward so that they could see one another better.

"You look beautiful." he murmured, smiling.

"I should think you would like it," Hermione smiled, "You picked it out for me."

Draco grinned back at her. "Do you know why I brought you here to night?" Draco asked, looking down into the sparkling brown eyes of the woman he loved.

Hermione felt a chill run down her spine and back up again. "No, Draco. I was hoping you'd tell me when I found you."

Draco smiled genuinely at her, "I've been thinking about this for a while, actually, just doing something like this." He murmured.

Hermione's eyes widened, "Since when?" she asked, but he didn't answer.

Instead he pulled Hermione to him and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "My love there is something important I need to ask you." He whispered just so Hermione could hear him over the flutter of the butterflies.

"What is it, Draco?" she asked, at a loss for what kind of question might prompt such an elaborate setup.

Hermione gasped audibly when Draco pulled away from her and dropped to one knee. "Draco!" she cried, her hands at her mouth.

"Hermione No-Last-Name, it has been nearly a year since I took a skinny, downtrodden woman in off the streets. In that time I have managed to fall hopelessly in love with the most beautiful, most intelligent, most caring woman I have ever met. You have helped me heal, Hermione in ways I didn't know I needed healing. I feel stronger when I am with you—and I don't sleep at night when you're not by my side. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Hermione was so overwhelmed with emotion that she could not speak at first. She felt the first tear roll down her cheek and she nodded happily. Draco stood and took her into his arms and held her close to him. Finally, she found her voice, "Yes Draco! Yes! A thousand times yes!" she cried and laughed and kissed every part of his face she could reach.

Draco pulled away from her and offered her the ring he'd held in his hand since before she had even flooed back into the Manor. "This ring was my grandmother's." He held it up for her inspection.

The ring was ornate, and cast in platinum. There was a good-sized princess-cut diamond in the center, and it was surrounded by emeralds and rubies. As well as delicate filigree that traced down each side of the ring. "It's beautiful, Draco." Hermione gasped, as he slipped it onto her finger.

"It was meant to be yours, Hermione." Draco whispered to her, "It's called the 'Heart of Gryffindor."

Hermione's head jerked up, "But—how?" she wondered, she thought surely that all for Draco's ancestors were Slytherin.

"My grandmother on my mother's side was a Gryffindor. That ring was made especially for her by my grandfather. Because she was the first Gryffindor in a predominantly Slytherin line, he had the ring maker charm the ring to protect her against any one who should try to hurt her. It's called the Heart of Gryffindor because only a Gryffindor who is truly in love with their mate may wear the ring and utilize its powers." Draco explained kissing Hermione's hand gently.

"Oh, Draco." She sighed, looking once again at the ring before pulling him down for another kiss. "This is the most wonderful thing I've ever received." She said.

You went through all this trouble—bought me a dress and everything, just to bring me here and propose?" Hermione sighed in wonder.

"Actually—there is another part of this evening…" Draco said. Looking down at her. "How does…Greece sound to you?" he smiled.

"Greece? What are you talking about?" she implored, her brow knitting slightly.

"Dinner, of course." Draco said, "Hold on to me." He murmured before closing his eyes and aparating away.

--

Hermione waited excitedly for the Potters and her parents to arrive a week later. She was excited to tell them the news—especially since Harry and Draco had formed a kind of friendship ever since the night Hermione's magic fully returned to her. She could never thank Harry enough for giving Draco a chance to explain himself, and working with him to help her. It meant the world that he was able to let go of his childhood grudges.

When the Potters finally arrived, little James in tow, Hermione rushed to hug Ginny and Harry. "Oh, it's so good to see you." She gushed, smiling happily. Draco stood from his chair and shook Harry's hand.

"My parents should be here any moment—I taught them how to floo last month, but they're still not used to it." Hermione said.

Just then, the Grangers skidded to a stop in front of the gathered party. "Present and accounted for!" Mr. Granger called, grinning. He had always found the floo more fun than it should have been.

"Most of us, anyway." Mrs. Granger swallowed—her experience was rather different from her husband.

Hermione greeted her parents and led them out onto the terrace where they would receive their afternoon tea.

Draco took his seat next to Hermione at the large round table and took her hand in his and held it in his lap. "I'm ready when you are dear." He whispered to her discreetly, while the Potters and the Grangers chatted about the baby.

Finally, Harry turned suspiciously back to Hermione and Draco. "Ok, you said that there was news—well out with it."

Ginny grinned impishly, the gleam in her eye telling Hermione she had an idea was this was about.

Hermione smiled, and laid her left hand on the table for everyone to see. "Draco asked me to marry him." She said smiling.

Harry and Mr. Granger broke out in broad grins, and each rose to shake Draco's hand. Ginny and Mrs. Granger squealed and cooed with delight over the beauty of the ring as well as the impending nuptials. They all chatted amicably for an hour or two, about plans for the wedding. Hermione leaned into Draco and found she was comforted just knowing that she had finally found true love.

--

Four months passed and it was mid-winter when Hermione learned something that would change her life forever.

She and Draco had been engaged and were busy planning a beautiful but rather small wedding, when Hermione came down with what she labeled the worst flu in the history of colds.

Often, she would wake from a dead sleep and rush to the bathroom to empty her stomach into the toilet. The first time it happened, she assumed that she'd eaten something that hadn't agreed with her. It certainly felt like a mild case of food poisoning.

When it happened again a few days later, Hermione assumed she was just getting sick. The wedding planning and her new job at the ministry as an unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries had her busy from sun up till sun down. She put it out of her mind until after a week she felt no better.

"Love, you should go to the doctor. I know you say its not serious—but what if it's more serious than you think?" Draco asked her one night lying in bed. After a bit of arguing which ended when Hermione found herself hunched over the toilet again, she agreed and made an appointment.

--

It was early when she arrived at St. Mungos. Her appointment was with a general healer who examined her both physically and with his wand. He cast several spells, muttered to himself, and then went about casting more spells. After several moments of sitting in silence, Hermione could take no more of it.

"Please—what is it? Is it serious?" Hermione asked, wringing her hands.

The doctor looked up from his clipboard and tilted his head. "I'd say its pretty serious, yes." He replied.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "Is it curable?"

The doctor, to her surprise, smiled broadly at her. "My dear what you have is a classic case of morning sickness." The healer replied.

Hermione's brows furrowed. "Morning Sickness?" She croaked, "That's impossible."

"Looking through your file, I'd be inclined to agree with you, dear, but the fact remains that you are indeed nearly two months pregnant."

Hermione's head began to spin. "It was impossible. It was impossible." She repeated aloud staring at the foot of the examination table.

"Sometimes, our healers are wrong, Miss. Sometimes, the damage that's been done repairs itself. Sometimes, despite all our magical knowledge, there is a deeper magic that creates miracles." The healer closed her chart and tapped it with his wand making it disappear. "Love has defeated greater opponents than this one." The healer winked, before turning to exit. "Congratulations, Miss." He said, before leaving the room.

"A baby." Hermione whispered, placing a shaking hand over her stomach. "Two months already." She said, and then did the math in her head—he had been late—but it wasn't uncommon, after all that had happened to her body during the war—she just never thought about it until now, what that could mean. "Oh what am I going to tell Draco!" she cried, standing and gathering her things before racing to the nearest apparition point.

--

Draco had noticed that Hermione seemed vexed about something ever since she'd returned from St. Mungos. He wanted to ask her what had been said—but it appeared that she was avoiding him. He worried more than ever as their wedding was now only a month or so away, whether or not there would even be a bride to walk down the isle to him.

He was sitting in the study brooding when she came to him.

"Draco?" She asked, there was nervousness in her voice.

Draco turned his face from the fire and looked at her. Her face made him rise to his feet and go to her. "What is it love?" he said, taking Hermione in his arms.

Hermione took a deep breath. She stepped out of the embrace and sat them down on one of the couches that faced the fire place. "I need to tell you what I learned at the hospital today." She said, trying to remain calm.

Draco blinked at her and waited for her to continue. He silently prayed that she would be ok.

"It's kind of funny, actually—" Hermione said. "A real miracle."

Draco was thoroughly confused. "What's going on, Hermione?"

Hermione looked into his face and saw his concern for her. It gave her the confidence that she needed. Without speaking, she took his large hand and placed it gently over her lower abdomen. She never lost eye contact with him, and her meaning was clear.

Draco's breath caught in his throat. As his hand rested against her he was at first confused, and then, impossibly happy. He swallowed the lump that had arisen and took a deep breath. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Two months, almost." She whispered.

"A baby." Draco whispered. "I'm gonna be a father." Without any further words, Draco scooped his fiancée up and carried her up to their bedroom. Laying her carefully amongst the pillows in their large bed he placed himself beside her. Gently, he lifted up her shirt and placed his lips on her abdomen.

Hermione watched Draco as he lovingly caressed her stomach. She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled happily. "My dream really has come true." She whispered.

Draco looked up at her. "So has mine." He said in reply, before leaning up to kiss her thoroughly.

--

The wedding was indeed a small affair. They had invited several of Hermione's friends from school—Luna, Neville, Seamus and Dean, as well as most of the Weasleys, minus Ron who was conveniently left off the guest list, and Charlie who was in Romania. There were the people that worked with Draco, and one or two of the Slytherins he still talked with.

Harry and Blaise stood up with Draco as his best men. Ginny stood by Hermione as her Matron of Honor. The colors were red and green, gold and silver, Ginny wore red, the boys had on green ties and cumber bunds.

Hermione's dress was exquisite; it was strapless and the bust was fitted, but it was an empire-waist design, so the dress fell about her form loosely. She was careful to hide the slight bulge her condition had produced over the month's time after she'd told Draco. Draco and Hermione had kept the pregnancy a secret from everyone. They would tell when the time was right.

They decided to hold the wedding in a local muggle cathedral—being that Hermione was of muggle birth, it was fitting. The ceremony was a wizarding ceremony, however.

As Hermione walked down the isle with her father and joined hands with Draco she smiled brightly. She was so happy she was tingling all over—and there was nothing that could ruin the moment.

"Ladies and Gentlemen we are gathered here today to witness the bonding of two souls into one. If there is anyone who should object to this union, please let them speak up now." The Wizard performing the ceremony glanced around the room and was about to speak when the doors at the back of the cathedral burst open. Ron Weasley came jogging up the isle.

--

Hermione felt her heart sink to her toes. She also felt Draco's hands grasp hers tighter—a signal that he was very angry and was about to do something no one should do in a church. She begged him to wait long enough to figure out what Ron was doing there.

Ron gasped for breath as he stopped at the end of the isle before Draco and Hermione.

"Ronald what are you doing here?" Hermione ground out, her own fury flooding her features now.

"I had to… to ask for your forgiveness… 'Mione." Ron looked at her pleadingly.

"Forgiveness?" Hermione asked, her brows rose.

"For everything. For the way we ended, for the fighting, for everything. I need to know you forgive me before you get married. Before you start over and forget about me."

Hermione felt her heart melt a little as she watched Ron's face. There was true sorrow there, true shame and true regret. She also saw that he truly cared about her and wanted nothing more for her to be happy. She sighed slightly and reached out to touch Ron's arm. "You were forgiven the day I got my magic back, Ronald. You know you're still my other best friend." She smiled at him.

It was as if a dam broke over the room, sighs and murmuring could be heard as Hermione turned to hug Ron. When she released him Ron turned to Draco.

"Malfoy." He offered his hand to shake. "Be better to her than I was. She's too precious a gift to lose in a moment of weakness." There was a sense of true understanding in Ron's words, and Draco shook his hand firmly with a nod.

"Don't worry Weasley. I'll take good care of her." Draco replied seriously.

Ron took a seat beside Ginny and Harry and the ceremony continued. Yes, all was right with the world.

The honeymooned in Italy, touring the Mediterranean sea-port cities and enjoying the local food and festivities. They were gone nearly two weeks when they returned to a house full of wedding presents that had yet to be opened.

--

Hermione was nearly three months along when she visited with her parents and with Ginny and Harry. It was becoming difficult to conceal her expanding abdomen, and finally she called a brunch to break the news.

"I know all of you are wondering what you're doing here." Hermione said, as she brought in a tray of tea cups and cookies. "Basically, Draco and I have some wonderful news that we need to share with you." She turned to her new husband for support.

Ginny's expression darkened momentarily in thought, but she said nothing.

"We're going to be adding a new addition to our family very soon." Hermione announced. "We're having a baby."

Her parents were overjoyed, assuming they meant to adopt. Harry and Ginny seemed to know better though and Ginny voiced their suspicions, "'Mione, I thought that was impossible. I thought with the injuries you received during the war—"

Hermione raised a hand and cut her friend off. "Apparently the healers were wrong, Gin. She pulled her baggy sweatshirt off to reveal a tank top that left little to the imagination, tummy-wise. Putting her hand delicately over the gentle bulge, she smiled. "We're only about three and a half months—but we wanted to tell you all—it's truly a miracle." Hermione grinned. She felt Draco wrap his arms about her and place his hands over her own.

Harry stood and extended his hand and then pulled Draco into a friendly hug. "Welcome to Fatherhood." He grinned as if he'd shared a secret with the blond haired man.

Hermione hugged Ginny and then her mother, who was crying. Her father congratulated them both and they settled into a comfortable, happy discussion about baby names and the bright future.

--

That night, as Hermione and Draco lay in bed in their post coital embrace they were just about to doze off when Hermione jerked and sat straight up in the bed.

"What's wrong love?" Draco asked, leaning up on his elbow.

"Give me your hand." She said hurriedly, excitedly.

"What?"

"Your hand, Draco," Hermione laughed, and turned toward him a bit, she was looking down at her stomach.

"Is something wrong with the baby?" he asked nervously.

Hermione took his hand and placed it over her stomach. "Wait. There… did you feel that?" she asked, looking at him excitedly.

"What was that?" Draco asked a bit unnerved.

"That, dear husband, was your son." She leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"My son?" Draco whispered his eye brows rising.

"Yes. The doctor told me just yesterday." She said with a smile on her face.

"I have a son." Draco pulled Hermione down as he lay back against the pillows. "I have a son." He repeated a smile in his voice.

"What do you think about Aiden?" Hermione mused.

"Aiden." Draco hummed. "Little Fire."

"I think it matches." Hermione sighed, curling into her husband. "After all, our Patronuses are Dragons."

Draco placed his hand over Hermione's stomach and molded himself into her back as he kissed her neck sweetly, he whispered into her ear—"Aiden Liam Malfoy."

"Liam… determined guardian…." Hermione smiled as she closed her eyes. "A fine name for a Malfoy" she murmured. "Named after the charm that cemented the return of my magic"

Malfoy hummed in her ear, "Named because it was our passion that created him. Named as a promise to spend my lifetime caring for you and our son."

--

It was late summer when the 9th month of Hermione's pregnancy rolled around. Her abdomen had expanded to hold the growing child within her, and though she disliked the added weight, Draco thought she couldn't have looked more beautiful.

It was early evening and Draco was sitting in his study reading up on a potion he was having his company produce, when he heard a thud at his door. He looked up and saw that Hermione had landed against the open door and was holding her belly with one hand.

Looking at him with watery eyes and excitement, Hermione whispered, "Draco, it's time."

_**Author's Notes:**_

_**THE END!**_

_**Whew**_

_**It's been a ride! I hope this covered most everything people were worried about. The conflict with Ron, the idea that Hermione was… in the family way… the marriage… Voila!**_

_**Thank you all SOO much for your wonderful reviews. I really couldn't have done this so quickly without you guys! blows kisses**_

_**I'll probably have a new fic in the works soon—I don't have anything in mind just yet—but I'm thinking about it, lol. So keep an eye out!**_

_**Thanks again for sticking with me!**_

_**Fairytale Mistress**_


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